


Tenebrosity

by immistermercury



Series: spin-off fluorescent!verse [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholics Anonymous, And his husband, Anorexia, Anorexia Recovery, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Fluff, Gang Rape, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Second Chances, VERY SUPPORTIVE HUSBANDS, an alternative ending, and himself, as you'd expect, bc the inpatient treatment needs weigh-ins, but he doesn't help himself, but with the truth, freddie can't come clean about the past, freddie is determined to get better, freddie messes up with jim, graphic depictions of extreme anorexia, he does get better, i can't leave things without a happy ending, in this house we really hate paul prenter, inc lots of stats on weight, inpatient treatment, it's less graphic than fluorescent but it fucks him up, jim is determined to help him, read from chapter 3 if you want fliuff, reconnecting with the children, royal ballet! verse, second chapter is about hope and reconciliation, self medication, set post incandescent, tbh everyone is pretty insensitive, the children are SO excited he's home, the second chapter gets almost fluffy?, there is hope, they're terrible at communicating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-09 13:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19888741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immistermercury/pseuds/immistermercury
Summary: “I missed you.” He said quietly, pale green eyes blinking up innocently at his father. “Daddy, what’s wrong with you? Why did you go away?”“I was very poorly, sweetheart.” He said gently. “I have a nasty illness that means that it’s hard to eat.”Oliver’s eyes turned big and concerned and he hugged Freddie tightly. “Are you still poorly?” He asked quietly.“Yes, darling.” Freddie said softly. “But I’m getting better now, I promise."





	1. Sobriety

**Author's Note:**

> Tenebrosity: the quality of being dark or shadowy.
> 
> This was supposed to be the ending of Incandescent but I decided it's way too sad! Unfortunately, I'm going through a little bit of a dark patch at the moment, hence the sad writings; it's kind of like a weird therapy. The actual ending of Incandescent is now going to be super happy, but in the spirit of keeping it real, especially with patterns of behaviour throughout a lifetime, here's what could've come of the boys.

_Now you're feeling the fear;_

_Because you've never been alone before,_

_And the wolf is at the door,_

_And the hounds of hell, they won't lie down-_

_On the ashes of your paper crown._

His knuckles were split open, but he’d mopped the best of the blood from them, the memoirs of another bar fight that he’d forgotten in the haze of the worst bender yet. It had dragged on for days, days of drugs and sex and rock’n’roll and ignoring the phone as the latest plaything crept from the bed and out the door before sunrise. Nothing, this time, nothing was soothing the emptiness, nothing was numbing the memories, nothing would take the past from him. 

He wanted to bleach his past clean, to not remember anything he’d fucked up beyond repair; he didn’t want to think about the way his son’s face crumpled with tears, the way his daughter had hidden behind the sofa, the way his husband’s once loving face had warped into anger and disbelief and horror of the man he’d become. It was wrong, so wrong, that he’d let something tear them apart when it hadn’t needed to.

He could still feel the dirty hands on him, tearing his clothes in haste, the payback for locking up a man in prison so long that he died behind bars. He would scrub and scrub until he bled, but he would never be clean, not so long as he lived; it was the shame that had stopped him from telling anyone, a single living soul, a doctor or a therapist or a family member or his husband. No matter how many times he wanted to, he could never express the terror of being overpowered by five different pairs of hands, the shame of being found on the bathroom floor by someone he’d never met.

At the time, it had been easier to drown it out. It had been easier to take pills, to snort powders, to drink straight liquor until he was sick; it was easier to numb the pain than to face it head-on.

“My name’s Freddie.” He looked up when it was his turn to speak, clasping his hands together. “I was Freddie Hutton. I go by Freddie Mercury now. I’m an alcoholic and I’m addicted to prescription painkillers.”

He wasn’t naive, and he wasn’t lying to himself; he knew he was fucked up. 

“I had a husband and two children. We were going to have our third. I was a principal ballet dancer for the Royal Ballet, and I was in a band called Queen.” He swallowed then, knowing he had to justify the ‘was’, but the words refused to come up his throat.

A hand rested on his shoulder from beside him and he nodded a little gratefully. “I went through some trauma and decided to self-medicate. My husband decided I wasn’t a good role model for our children, and so I moved out. I haven’t seen them in two months, a week and six days.”

“What do you want from the future, Freddie?” The leader of the group asked quietly. “Why are you here?”

“I want to be clean.” His hands were already shaking from withdrawal, and he clenched them tightly so they weren’t as noticeable. “I want it all back. I miss it. I was happy.”

“What stops you?” The voice softened slightly. “Why can’t you get clean?”

“Every time I get clean, I think about what happened, and I spiral. I’ve never told anyone about it, and so they all think I’m being selfish. Maybe I am.” He looked down again. “My husband thinks I got tired of him, but I need him now more than ever.”

“What kind of therapy could you get to help you? You seem to hold faith in talking therapy.” He said quietly. “You’ve been coming to these sessions a lot. It’s nice that you’ve decided to contribute.”

He didn’t know if he should feel patronised or comforted by the clapping; he took a packet from his bag and swallowed two pills quickly. He couldn’t deal with the agony of withdrawal yet. “I can’t talk about it. Every time I try, I just seize up.” He shook his head. “Coming here makes me feel like I’m not alone, even though I am.”

“Try with us?” He suggested. “We’re all your friends here, Freddie, you know that. Anything you say here is in strictest confidence.”

“I can’t.” He said instinctively, but forced himself to calm down; he grabbed his polystyrene cup of coffee and pushed a breath from his sore lungs. “I was sexually and physically abused from the age of seventeen to the age of nineteen. I got closure on all that, I went through a trial and everything, and he was locked away, but-” He froze up and shook his head. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“You have to calm down in order to be honest. You have to not trigger your fight or flight response when you start to-” 

“I’ve been through CBT.” He spat, almost taken aback by the venom in his own voice. “Sorry, sorry, I just- I know. It’s hard because it’s not just the event, it’s everything that happened as a consequence. Those bastards ruined everything.”

“Do you project your self-blame onto others, Freddie?” He asked. “Things that you know you should take personal responsibility for, but find yourself unable to do so? It’s very common in addicts, to blame others for your behaviour, and that may be the first thing to address-”

Anger flared through his veins like molten wax. “I was raped!” He shouted, hands quickly clasping over his mouth, his heart racing.

“I take it back, then.” The leader said quickly. “Obviously, Freddie, that’s not your fault.”

“After I had the man put in prison, his friends came for me.” The words were trickling out without his permission. “I was on a night out with a few friends from work, and they got me in a bar, and they didn’t stop until I was humiliated and bleeding. My husband thought I’d gone out and shagged some random man at a club.”

“Why didn’t you tell him the truth?” Another voice, far quieter.

“I sound so weak.” He said quietly. “It was easier to let him think that I’d had a one-night-stand.”

“He needs to know, Freddie.” The man behind him rubbed his back gently. “You can’t get help until you let the people around you know. Otherwise, you’ll keep doing what you’re doing until you overdose.”

* * *

“You’re sober.” Roger sounded as though he was in disbelief. “How do you feel?” He asked as he put the groceries on the counter.

“Fucking horrendous.” Freddie pulled the blanket tighter around himself even though he was sweating. “I’ve already thrown up three times and I’m so cold I feel I’ll freeze to death.”

“Why are you trying this time?” Roger asked. He was practically the only friend still on side, and even Kash had warned him against spending too much time with him. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get sober, but most of his attempts gave up when it got hard, far before he got to this stage.

“I want to go and see Jim tomorrow. He won’t even look at me if I turn up spaced out or drunk. He won’t look at me if I’m an asshole to be around.” Freddie wiped his eyes quickly; he was irritated by how much they were watering.

“Is that a good idea?” Roger asked gently. “You know he doesn’t want you around the children like this, and you’ll hardly be through withdrawal by them.”

“But it’s a start.” Freddie’s voice was tinged with desperation. “He has Wednesdays off. They were always our day together, and the kids will be at school.”

“If you want to, Fred, then go for it. Just don’t- don’t break your heart all over again, okay? It’s good to see you want to change.” Roger rested a hand on his shoulder and gave him a mug of tea. “Want any dinner?”

“I think I’ll just throw it up. Thanks for the offer, though.” He sighed. “I think I’m ready to tell him about what happened.”

“Something happened?” Roger asked, voice a little softer. “I thought you had a one-night-stand with that boy from the record label?”

“I lied about it.” He looked up at Roger and cradled the mug closer; he was so, so cold. “It was easier to lie. I- I didn’t want to think about it. That’s why I drank.”

It was so different opening up to a friend in comparison to opening up to a room of strangers; it felt strangely comforting to have somebody close to him know. Maybe it was time healing the wounds - it had been nearly five months since the attack.

“What happened?” Roger sat down on the opposite end of the sofa. “Freddie, God, if you’d said-”  
  
“I wasn’t ready to say.” He said quietly. “Paul’s friends, they…” He trailed off. “You know what they were like. They wanted vengeance. They hurt me.”

“They didn’t-” Roger started and Freddie nodded, recognising the look on his face from when he’d first sussed what had happened all those years ago. “Shit, Freddie, I never realised-”

“Why would you?” Freddie asked sadly; he craved a drink just to steady his hands. He sipped a little of his tea and sighed. “No one did.”

“And we all just pushed you away because we thought you were being awful to us.” Roger leaned over and hugged him; Freddie wondered how long it was since someone else had embraced him. He wondered how long it was since he’d seen someone outside of the club, the meetings or Roger himself.

“I just miss the children so much, and I fucked it all up because I didn’t tell him.” He whispered.

“You didn’t tell us the first time for months, Fred, we wouldn’t expect you to-” He sighed. “We should’ve given you time. You need to tell Jim.”

* * *

No matter what he did, he couldn’t make himself look good. His eyes watered, his nose was red from blowing it, he was shaking and aching and every jolt of the tube made nausea bubble at the base of his stomach; he’d had to leave the train at one stop and pay thirty pence for the privilege of vomiting again.

He knocked on the front door with trembling hands; the sight of the old wood, painted white, made him feel tearful. The memories locked within the confines of the house were torturously good, and he wanted more and more, but he was locked out in the cold and the wet.

“Freddie.” Jim’s voice sounded almost bored, and he didn’t even bother opening the door. “I’m not giving you money and the children aren’t here. Go away.”

“I’m not high.” He said quickly. “Or drunk. I’m sober, Jim, please, I want to talk to you. I need you to know something. One thing, and then I’ll leave again. I won’t make a scene.” His voice grew more desperate. “Please.”

Jim sighed and the door opened with a heavy click. He looked torturously good, laid back, the house pristine behind him; there was no indication that he even missed Freddie in the slightest. “Promise you’re sober?”

“Promise.” Freddie held out a hand. “You can tell because I can’t stop fucking shaking.”

Jim’s smile was a little amused. “We’ll have one coffee. Then I need to get going.”

“Okay.” Freddie nodded quickly, an eager puppy keen to please. “How have you been? How are the kids? Was Oliver’s sleepover good?”

“We’re fine.” Jim replied brusquely as he put the kettle on. Freddie hated how high his defences were, how hard they were to break through. “Quit the small talk, Freddie. Tell me what you’re here to tell me.”

“I’ve been going to these AA meetings.” He told Jim; the mocking eyebrow sent his way made him feel sick again. “That’s not what I’m here to tell you, I don’t expect applause for it, we were just discussing something last night and they told me I needed to tell you, because you’re still my husband.”

“I’ve got some papers you need to sign, actually, while you’re here.” Jim put the coffees on the table and sat opposite him. “To dissolve it, and to sort out custody, that kind of thing.”

Jim knew how to derail him perfectly, but Freddie persisted despite the lump in his throat. “I didn’t cheat on you.” He blurted out. “It was easier to say that than to admit what happened.”

It was the first time Jim had looked him in the eye, and Freddie wanted to shrink out of his own skin. “What the hell happened, then?” He asked. “You let me believe I wasn’t good enough for you for all these months?”

“I was attacked again.” He struggled with his words; it was times like now that he craved the drink more than ever. “Paul’s friends. Revenge.” He put his head in his hands as tears welled at the back of his throat. He didn’t want to pull the sympathy card, but it was hard to regulate his emotions without the drugs.

He bit down on his lip fiercely to stop anything escaping when Jim rested a hand on his shoulder. “Freddie-” His voice was softer this time. “Freddie, I need you to tell me properly. I can’t keep filling in the blanks.”

“I went to a bar with the boys from the Royal after a show for celebratory drinks. I told you I was going out that night.” He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and they came back wet. “And I went to the bathroom, and they followed me in, and they-” He couldn’t force the words from his throat. “Took turns. They made me bleed.”

“Took turns doing what, Freddie?” Jim asked quietly. “Did they beat you?”

He shook his head, scratching his blunt nails over his scalp. “They raped me.” He whispered, voice practically inaudible.

“I can’t hear you.” Jim was getting frustrated, and he knew logically that he was treating him all wrong. 

“They raped me!” He shouted. “What more do you want from me? I didn’t tell you because I was so fucking embarrassed and so I made up some story about a two-bit tramp and tried to drown out the memories!” He stood up and walked over to the door; his fingers shook on the lock. “This was a mistake, you can send me the forms, I’ll fill them out and get them back to you.” He fumbled as he tried to open the door, eyes blinded with tears and fingers shaking with nerves and withdrawal.

“Wait.” Jim said quietly. “Wait, Freddie, don’t go.” He stood up and rested his hand on his shoulder. 

“This was a mistake.” He repeated, hands still on the door. “They told me I had to tell you but I never wanted to because it’s all so awful and it’s all I can see whenever I close my eyes-”

“So you drink until you blackout and the codeine numbs your emotions during the day so that you can function.” Jim knew him too well. “Shit, Freddie, I’m-” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want pity. I’m not some saint just because someone fucked me without my consent.” He shuddered at the words. “I still drugged myself in front of the children.”

When he finally turned around, Jim gently held his hand. “But I was wrong to cut you off from us. I should’ve helped you. I was hurting, and I was irrational.”

“Don’t make promises you won’t keep.” Freddie said quietly. “Listen, I’m fine with being apart, I don’t mind living on my own. Don’t make it sound like you want me when you don’t.” He glanced up at a photo of them all at the beach on Talulah’s fourth birthday; he covered his mouth when a tear slipped down his cheek. “I just really miss them.”

“No, Freddie, I’m serious. If- if you’re telling me the truth, then I am sorry, and I do want to help you.” He thought back to the gradual revelation of the truth about Paul, the half-truths that eventually threaded into the whole picture. Freddie hadn’t told him the whole truth for at least six months after the end of that, and instead had come up with a thousand excuses for injuries.

Realistically, it was a repeat of the same thing.

“Are you telling me the truth?” Jim asked, holding Freddie’s hand tightly. “Because if this is a lie, Freddie, I can’t forgive you.”

“It’s not.” He said quietly. “It’s not a lie. I had to go through all the testing again and they found preliminary evidence of HIV but we might be able to stop it before it hurts me.” He looked away. “Because I got the drugs within a few hours of the attack.”

Jim pulled him into a hug then, and he’d missed the way Freddie felt in his arms; he’d missed the solid press of the body against his, the dips and curves that he knew too well. “Freddie, sweetheart-” He started, but the simple pet-name broke down every one of his barriers: the tears leaked down his cheeks as he finally, finally gave up fighting it, fighting the memories. They attacked him full force, the memories of words and noises and grips and pains and terrified screams for help. Memories of banging on the door from both sides, of police waiting outside for them, laying motionless in a broken heap on the floor, being moved and being spoken to and just reliving the one scene in his mind over and over again, the click of the lock that would never let him go.

His heart pounded and he covered his mouth again, staring into the distance, some awful religious out-of-body experience where he watched his favourite leather trousers being torn off his body, heard the voice of the negotiator, but they weren’t interested in money or release from prison or notoriety; they wanted justice, and this was all they wanted. They wanted to tear his life apart in such a beautifully succinct way, vengeance for a dead friend, and nothing would honour his memory better.

* * *

He came around in their bed - Jim’s bed, not his any longer, not since he’d been relegated to the sofa like all those awful times when he disappointed Paul. His glazed eyes fixed on the ceiling for a while, taking in the carving around the edges of the walls, the beautiful architecture of the Victorian building. He spread his fingers first, testing out the muscles, and was a little relieved at how his body didn’t seem to ache as much. He worried, though, that in his blackout, he’d managed to placate himself with the drugs or the alcohol to numb himself again.

Then again, maybe the admission was too much for his body to handle in the throes of withdrawal.

“Freddie?” He heard and glanced over; Jim was laying beside him, holding one of those cold hands. “Oh, thank fucking God, you’re awake.”

He lifted his hand to the crown of his head and winced. “What the hell happened?” He asked roughly. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.”

“You had a panic attack.” Jim said quietly. “It was the worst one I’ve ever seen you have. You just- you stopped responding to me, and you just blacked out, and I couldn’t make you come round. I just had to wait for you.”

“Shit.” Freddie sat up again, definitely too quickly for his spinning head. Jim had the children, and Jim had responsibilities, and Freddie was busy being a burden on his time with his shitty mental health and shitty addictions and shitty inability to look after himself when he was alone. “I’m so sorry, I’ll go now, I didn’t mean to-”

He had taken to excusing himself, to being alone whenever he could be; when he was alone, he could only fuck things up for himself. He could starve himself for a week, or he could hurt himself, or he could drink until he blacked out, and the only person that would wake injured or hungover or too weak to stand was himself. 

“It’s alright.” Jim promised. “I don’t think it’s good for you to be alone, Freddie.”

Freddie wanted to scream about his lack of choice in the matter; if he didn’t pick up some tottering drunk from a bar then it would be perpetual loneliness for him. Instead, he shook his head. “It’s fine, honestly, I have a meeting and they’ll wonder where I am-”

“Stay the night?” Jim asked quietly. “You don’t have to, but I don’t want you panicking like that again when there’s no one to help you.”

“I’m not a child.” Freddie protested and stood up on shaky legs. “I don’t want to be confined to the bed while you get to do bathtime and storytime and bedtime.”

“We don’t really do storytime anymore.” Jim admitted. “It made Olly sad because I don’t do voices like you do. He said mine aren’t the same. We don’t call him Bear anymore either, because it makes him sad.”

Every word was like another crushing weight, an indicator of how badly he’d betrayed his children. “I can’t stay.” Freddie was on the verge of tears again. “It’s torture, Jim, please-”

“I never said you couldn’t see them.” Jim said quietly. “They’re your children too.”

Freddie sat back down with his head in his hands. “I only want five minutes.” He said quietly. “Five minutes to tell them I love them.”

“You can have more than five minutes.” Jim crouched in front of him and wiped his eyes. Freddie was a complete mess, but Jim only felt more strongly about protecting him now more than ever. “If you get showered and changed, then you can help with bathtime and bedtime. They might want a story if you’re there to read it.”

Freddie looked as though he’d been given the whole world. “Really?” He whispered.

“Really.” Jim nodded. “Towels are in the airing cupboard. I’m going to pick them up from school.”


	2. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's better to be gentle when he needs it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got so much fluffier than I was intending? But like, you're totally welcome because the amount of hope in this makes me happy.

_ My mind is a safe, _

_ And if I keep it then we all get rich; _

_ My body is an orphanage, _

_ We take everyone in; _

_ Doing lines of dust and sweat _

_ Off last night's stage- _

Freddie leaned over the toilet and dug a few items from his pocket: a half-full bottle of pills; a razor blade; a crumpled twenty pound note and one pound twenty in change. He arranged the money on the floor and emptied each and every pill into the palm of his hand. He took a deep breath as he dropped them into the water, ruining them, quickly followed by the razor blade; he clenched his fists as he resisted the urge to dig them all out and pressed the flush quickly. He stood up, took his eyes off the swirling water, and washed his hands, getting rid of any chalky dust or powders from his skin.

He put the money in Jim’s bedside drawer; if it wasn’t his then he couldn’t spend it on different mechanisms to try and kill himself. Instead, it could be a treat that he found by accident; maybe he could spend it on a few drinks with his friends, or a babysitter, or even some new toys for the children.

The thought made him smile a little as he headed for the bathroom again. He turned on the water and undressed slowly, trying not to look at himself in the big mirror, the mirror he’d always loved so much. He knew that he looked disgustingly frail, skeletal from a combination of coke, codeine and simple starvation; he’d rather not look. He could see his hands and his legs, and that was enough of a reality to face up to.

The water was warm against his skin as he washed, drawing soapy circles on his scalp under the spray; his toiletries sat untouched in their little bathroom, and he couldn’t decide if that made him happy or sad. Sad, because he’d left so much behind, so much in the material and so much in the invaluable. Happy, though, because his existence hadn’t been erased, because it looked as if maybe, maybe he’d been waiting for Freddie to come back.

He only had to get out of the shower to be sick once, which he counted as a win. He couldn’t stand the fruitiness of his own shower gel, and so went without it, trying his best to clean dirt and blood with just the warm water; he scrubbed his thighs until they bled, and then cursed himself for it. He wouldn’t use Jim’s shower gel, not in a thousand years, not when he was on such thin ice.

He was fiercely dehydrated, and so he drank a little from the showerhead. He wouldn’t as much as pour himself a glass of water without Jim’s permission, fearful of contributing to bills and causing more resentment. He was certain that he wouldn’t accept dinner, money that he’d probably just sick back up again, and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

He stepped out into the bedroom and dug through some of his old clothes, trying to find something that he hadn’t stolen from Jim over the years; it seemed like he was trying too hard if he wore his husband’s clothes straight away. He eventually went for a pair of his tiny ballet tights, struck by how baggy they were on him, and a sweater that hung way past his hips. He glanced down at himself and fixed his gaze on his hands again, turning them over slowly; he could practically count the bones.

He smiled wryly to himself; maybe he’d finally achieved the goal of being under a hundred pounds and not being hospitalised. All it had taken was tearing his life apart.

He dried his hair slowly, feeling how desperately it needed cutting; he missed his curls, he had too much weight in his hair after months of letting it grow out. He grabbed a hairband off the counter and tied up as much as he could, twisting it into a messy little bun. He brushed his teeth quickly and sat back down by the mirror in the bedroom; he applied a little moisturiser and a little lip balm, trying to keep himself busy to stop the worries about the children surfacing again.

He knelt forward and folded the clothes he’d worn to see Jim. He needed to do laundry when he got home, he reminded himself, needed to take almost everything he’d ever worn down to the laundrette-

“Daddy!” He heard, and he immediately felt on the verge of tears again as the two children came for him. They ran straight into his arms, knocking him back onto the floor; he wasn’t as strong as he once had been. 

“Hi, little ones.” He whispered, holding them as tight as he could; his voice was hoarse and his throat sore from the nausea. He pressed a kiss to the top of their heads, each in turn. He never wanted to let go. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Oliver leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I wanted to come and visit you all the time, Daddy, but Pop said that the ladies wouldn’t let me.” He told his father earnestly. 

Freddie was confused by his words. “What do you mean, darling?” He asked quietly, rubbing Talulah’s back when he sensed she was getting impatient for her turn to speak.

“When you were in the hospital and those nurses said you couldn’t have visitors because you were too ill and the children might catch it.” Jim gave Freddie a pointed look from behind the children, and he understood immediately; it was the story the children had been as to why they couldn’t see their father. “Remember?”

“They were only trying to help you, darling.” Freddie kissed his forehead. “They didn’t want you to catch the horrible illness that I had! Then both of us would’ve been poorly.”

“Pop didn’t tell us you were visiting!” Talulah hugged him again. “He said we might have to wait for a long, long time.”

“They let me out for the day, sweetness, because I was missing you too much.” Freddie brushed his gorgeous blonde hair back from her face. “We’re going to see how I do here at home, and if I’m still too poorly then I’ll have to go back again.”

It was the code for  _ your Pop has the power to say whether I stay or I go.  _

“Will Daddy snuggle?” Talulah asked hopefully, and Freddie’s heart almost burst; because it had always been his job to pick them up from school, they’d always done cuddle piles when they got home. Talulah tended to get tired when she came home from school, and Oliver just liked affection too much to resist snuggling up on the sofa, usually with Freddie reading to them.

“Of course I will, sweetheart.” He smiled. “You go and choose a book and grab some blankets, okay, and I’ll be there in a second.”

The children went dashing off and Freddie stood up a little shakily. “Is it okay-” He couldn’t meet Jim’s eyes again; he felt so ashamed of himself stood next to a man so firm, so level-headed and so resolute. “Is it okay if I have a glass of water? I’ll go and get it, I mean, I’m not asking you to run around after me, I just wanted to check that it was okay, I only want the one, I won’t-”

“Freddie.” Jim rested a hand on his shoulder. “We’re not doing the silly self-punishment thing, okay? Calm down. If you need water, or tea, or coffee, or whatever, you go and get it. You don’t have to ask my permission.”

“Thank you.” He said shyly. “Jim, I- I want you to know that I do still really love you. I’ve missed you so much.”

It was so hard to stay harsh when Freddie was being so sweet, and when all Jim wanted was to forgive him, but he forced himself to stay a little cold. “The children are waiting for you. It’s best not to keep them waiting. I’ll start dinner.” He said as he turned away.

Freddie nodded, quickly getting himself that water before he went into the lounge. The sofa was a huge L-shape and the children had sprawled out right in the corner, leaving a big enough space for Freddie to sit in between them; they snuggled close when he brought the blankets over the top of them.

Oliver’s face lit up at all the voices, and Talulah howled with laughter whenever he poked her playfully, but Freddie couldn’t stop the creeping dread, the intense fear of loneliness, from rising in his chest. He excused himself quickly, and Oliver immediately picked up the book to keep reading for Talulah.

“I need to go.” Freddie went into the kitchen where Jim was. “I need to go, Jim, I’m sorry, this has been lovely but you were right to keep me from them because I can’t handle it.”

“Can’t handle what, Freddie? They’re the same children as they’ve always been.” Jim looked over at him, saw him badly he was shaking, how much he was forcing himself to hold back the tears.

“I can’t play happy families when we’re not a happy family.” Freddie’s voice was more of a whimper. “I can’t handle seeing them a few times a month. It’s easier to be alone.” He whispered. He turned away quickly and grabbed his shoes, pulling them on quickly, searching desperately for his day ticket for the tube now that he didn’t have the change for a taxi.

“Freddie.” Jim sighed and rested a hand on his back. “You can’t turn your back on us like this.”

“I’m not!” He burst into tears. “But I can’t undo everything that I’ve done and you’ll never be able to look at me like you love me ever again and I’ll never be able to impress you enough to convince you to let me back in!” He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I should never have come and wasted your time.”

“You didn’t waste my time.” Jim took one of his hands gently. “Talulah hasn’t laughed like that in a long time.”

“Don’t.” Freddie croaked, covering his face with his hand. “Don’t use them against me. I can’t take it.”

He wanted the pills more than ever; he wanted the stash in his bathroom cabinet, enough to numb him for weeks. It was enough to send him to hospital with an IV and a ventilator, but he didn’t care anymore. It hadn’t killed him last time.

Jim carefully brought Freddie’s cold hand to his lips and kissed it very lightly. “I’m being too harsh with you.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry, Freddie.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.” Freddie wrapped his free arm around his middle, almost to protect himself. “I can’t do it.”

“You can do it.” Jim said quietly. “You’re already doing it. I just want you to be you, Freddie. I want you to be the man I fell in love with.”

The kitchen timer went off, and Freddie looked over Jim’s shoulder to where the children were standing in the doorway of the lounge. They didn’t deserve to have to watch him in that state. “Dinner’s ready.” Jim said quietly and squeezed his hand.

“Enjoy it. I’m going to have a lie-down.” He tried a little smile. 

“Are you not eating?” Jim asked, a little worried. “You’re- you’re practically skeletal, Freddie.”

“Not while I’m withdrawing.” He shook his head. “It’ll make me sick.”

“Okay.” Jim nodded and squeezed his hand. “Your blanket is in the wardrobe, if you want it.”

* * *

Jim leapt up when there was a banging at the front door, swinging it open quickly. “Roger?” He questioned. “Are you alright?”

“Have you got Freddie?” He asked breathlessly. “Because I let myself into his flat and he’s not there, and he’s left his wallet on the side and there’s an empty pill bottle on the side and I’m scared shitless.”

“He’s upstairs.” Jim said quietly. “He’s still sober for now, but he keeps trying to leave.”

“Thank fuck.” Roger leaned over and rested his palms on his thighs. “I just thought- I thought he’d really done it, this time, you know?”

“This time?” Jim asked, even quieter.

“Last time he went missing I found him in a hospital halfway across London. No one- no one cared, then, Jim, it was awful. There was nothing positive to tell him to get him out of that rut.” He sighed and stood up again. “I’m glad you’ve got him. It might be good for him.”

“He’s trying hard.” He nodded. “I left him on his own for about an hour and he didn’t try to have a fix, so that’s something.”

“That really is something.” He agreed, even smiling a little. “Do you mind if I come and see him? I’ve been checking in on him most evenings, and Kash’ll kill me if I don’t see him tonight, because he’s probably low.” He pulled a little bottle out of his pocket. “I’ll give this to you to look after. I was going to give them to him, but you’re safer. They’re antiemetics, because I imagine he’s been quite sick.”

“He’s been refusing to eat because of the sickness.” Jim nodded. 

“They’re prescribed for him and everything. She’s a doctor.” Roger reassured him.

“You forget I was with him for eight years.” He took the bottle. “Thank you, though. They might help. Can he take anything for the pain?”

“Not really. I did ask.” He came in as Jim shut the door behind them. “Everything has an addiction risk.”

“Yeah, no.” Jim smiled wryly. “He’s upstairs. Door on the left.”

“Thanks.” Roger smiled and jogged up the stairs, knocking lightly. “Freddie?”

“Yeah?” He asked, groggy with sleep. He was tucked up under his blanket, under the covers, still in his sweater, and yet he was still shivering. Despite the cold, though, it was the best sleep he’d had in a long while. 

Roger opened the door and relaxed a little at the sight of him. Simply having had a wash had made all the difference to his appearance. “How are you doing?” He asked softly, sitting beside the bed.

Freddie brought the blanket up higher, curled up smaller. “Horribly.” He murmured. “I can’t stop being sick and I’ve got the worst headache.”

Roger grabbed his water bottle from the bedside table and refilled it in the sink for him. “Drinking some more should help. I brought a present, too, which might help you. Jim has them at the moment.”

“Are they pills?” Freddie asked hopefully.

“Antiemetics. They help you stop feeling sick. Kash got them for you.” Roger smiled.

“Bless her.” Freddie rubbed his eyes groggily. “I really want to get clean this time, Rog.” He said quietly.

“I know, Fred. I can tell.” He said gently. “We’re going to help you, okay? But you have to let us help you.”

Freddie nodded. “Thank you.”

* * *

It had been an hour since he’d taken the tablets and he’d only twinged with nausea once; he’d even managed to eat a little of what Jim had made for dinner, though his stomach protested. After being empty for so long, his appetite suppressed, any food felt like too much. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten into this position; he’d been curled up with the children when Jim had come to join them and had pulled Freddie under his arm. 

Jim’s fingers swept mindlessly over his waist and his hips, a steady and comforting rhythm that was finally helping to settle the anxiety that had been overwhelming him. Freddie closed his eyes, tucked his nose into his husband’s side, and finally let himself relax.

This, he considered, might have been better than any hit he’d ever experienced, because this was real.

Jim had finally decided that punishing Freddie with coldness wasn’t going to get them anywhere; he needed support, someone on his side, a reason to get clean and stay clean. If he felt like there was nothing to get clean for, if he felt like he’d never be accepted back into their family, then there was no incentive.

Besides, Freddie was still his husband, even if they had divorce papers on the counter in the hall. Freddie was still the man he loved, that he was devoted to; he could still remember what he’d said to his mother all those years ago.

_ What kind of boyfriend am I if I just give up when he spirals? That’s when he needs me the most. _

“We’ll have to do bathtime in a minute.” Jim murmured into his hair; Freddie hadn’t even realised that he’d tucked himself instinctively against Jim’s chest. “Do you want to join in, darling?” He asked quietly.

Freddie nodded sleepily. “Please.” He looked up at his husband, and he was just overwhelmed by his love for him. “I want to help.”

“Dry and dress or bath?” Jim offered, taking his frail hand and warming it between his. He’d tried to move on from Freddie, but no one else had ever invoked the same feelings in him, the desire to protect and love him.

“Bath.” Freddie smiled then; his favourite thing was to be up to his elbows in bubbly water, playing with the children. “If that’s okay with you, I mean.”

“Of course it is.” Jim dropped a gentle kiss on the top of his head. “How are you feeling?”

“Not as bad.” Freddie said softly. “My tummy doesn’t hurt as much anymore. I don’t feel quite as shaky, but I do have a headache.”

“Headache or migraine?” He asked softly. “Do you want some tablets?”

Freddie shook his head. “No, thank you. It’s probably going to become a migraine, but those tablets have codeine in. It’ll put me back.”

“How long since you took any?” Jim questioned. “Have you had any while you’ve been here?”

Freddie shook his head. “My meeting last night. About seven o’clock.” He said quietly. “I brought some with me but I flushed them when I got tempted. I flushed my razor, too, because I thought that doing something else would be a terrible idea.” He tried to keep his language as clean as possible, hyper-aware of the children on the sofa with them; they didn’t need to know about cocaine and codeine. 

Jim squeezed him a little, and Freddie felt the first tinge of pride that he’d felt in a long time. “I’m glad you did that. Thank you.” Jim kissed his temple and Freddie’s cheeks coloured. 

“I’m going to go and run the bath.” Freddie said softly. “And change out of this sweater, else I’ll get too hot. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

He stood up and hesitated for a moment. He looked down at his husband and lightly pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling nervously before he left the room.

He changed into a t-shirt and went into the bathroom, sitting by the bath as he started the taps. He looked over the different bubble baths and eventually chose the marshmallow one, pouring in three capfuls for extra bubbles; he knew it would make Talulah happy.

Jim stood in the doorway and watched as he leaned over the water, the bumps of his spine visible through his shirt. “How much do you weigh at the moment, Freddie?” He asked gently. “Do you know?”

“I stopped counting.” Freddie glanced over his shoulder. “It’s awful, I know. I look horrendous.”

“It’s just- it’s a little scary. You were about one twenty-five when you left.” He rested a hand on his back. “Were you eating at all?”

“A little. Here and there.” He sighed. “Coke changes your metabolism. I could eat anything I wanted and still lose it.”

Jim grabbed the scales from under the sink. “Can we find out? I want to know where we’re starting from.”

Freddie stood up and dried off his hands. “Go for it.” He stood out, refusing to look down for a second while he breathed a shaky sigh. “What is it?”

“Eighty-eight.” Jim said quietly. “Christ.”

“Eighty-eight.” Freddie sounded a little detached as he echoed it. “I’m surprised I’m even standing.”

Jim pulled him in close. “Listen, if you can stay clean for me, I’ll help you. We can do this, Freddie, but only if you want to, and only if you can commit to it.”

“I want to.” Freddie clutched onto his top. “I- I forgot how much I missed you all, but I want to stay.” He whispered. “I want to wake up next to you and pick the kids up from school and I want to dance and I want to sing and I want to get help so I can clean those bastards from my mind like I did with Paul.” He paused for a second. “And I want to be clean and I want to put on weight and I want to be a good Daddy again.”

Jim cupped his cheek and kissed him gently, only for a second, soft and chaste before he pulled away. “Olly! Lulah!” He called, and Freddie couldn’t stop himself from laughing momentarily with delight. 

The children came running into the room; Oliver hugged Freddie’s leg and giggled. “Do you want to go first, Bear?” He offered. 

Jim paused for a second; he wanted to warn him again about upsetting him using that nickname, but Oliver’s face twisted into one of delight as Freddie picked him up. “Please, Daddy!” He kissed Freddie’s cheek.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” Freddie sat him on the floor and helped pull his little socks off. When he was undressed, Freddie lifted him and sat him amongst the bubbles, he giggled.

“Can Lulah come in too?” He asked hopefully as Talulah sat patiently by the bath. “We can share!”

“You can share if Lulah wants to, sweetheart.” Jim said softly. When Talulah nodded eagerly, Jim put her in the bath next to him; the children immediately started to splash one another. Jim hadn’t seen them so happy and playful in such a long time.

“Bear, darling, tilt your head back.” Freddie said softly. Talulah splashed Freddie as he did, and Freddie squealed instinctively.

“Not Daddy, darling!” Jim laughed. “Daddy is trying to stay dry!”

“Sorry, Daddy.” She giggled. “I got excited.”

Freddie dropped a kiss on the end her nose playfully. “It’s nice to see your smile again, darling. I missed it.”

* * *

The sheets were soft around his tired muscles; Freddie woke on his back, not his side as usual, one hand extended above his head. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa, and so he must have been tucked in by Jim last night. He opened one eye, seeing his heavy blanket on top of him, and reasoned that it had comforted him throughout the night.

“Good morning.” Freddie rolled his head to the side when he heard Jim’s voice and couldn’t suppress his smile. 

“Morning.” Freddie’s voice was rough and he immediately moved towards him when Jim pointedly held an arm out for him. He settled down against his chest and closed his eyes again when he felt that his head was spinning.

“How are you?” Jim asked softly and pushed Freddie’s hair back from his face. 

“I’m just accepting that today’s going to be terrible.” He admitted. “Today’s the peak. Today is probably going to be the worst day of my life.”

“Have you done it before?” Jim asked quietly.

“Tried to.” Freddie sighed. “Three times. First time I got to about nine in the morning. Second time I overdosed by lunchtime. Third time I was messed around by friends that weren’t really friends.” He paused for a second. “But I’ll do it this time.”

“I’m going to take the day off work. I don’t want to leave you on your own through it.” Jim said softly. 

“I don’t trust myself to be alone through it.” Freddie nodded. “It’s so hard. I’ll just try and sleep most of the day.”

Jim kissed his forehead. “What can I do to help?”

“Don’t let me have anything apart from those pills Kash sent me.” He said quietly. “I just want to get it out of me now.”

“Do you want to help with the kids, or would you rather stay in bed?” Jim asked. “It’s fine either way, but they’ll want to come and see you at some time.”

“I’ll help around the house, but it’s not good for me to go out. I’ll stay in.” He nodded. 

* * *

He sat in the bathtub, shivering and clammy, hands clasped around his chest. He’d been in for so long that the water had gone cold, but it was the best way to keep his senses deprived, to ease the aching of his muscles. He cupped the cold water and ran it through his hair and over the back of his neck, washing off the sweat, letting it calm his racing heartbeat.

He breathed out slowly and closed his eyes, sinking up to his neck in the cold water.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he woke up spluttering with a mouthful of cold water, shaking with the cold; his body temperature had dropped, and dropped dramatically. He stood up and wrapped a towel around him, trembling violently, teeth chattering, and walked out into the bedroom. “Jim?” He called out, breath shallow. “Jim?” He tried again, a little louder. 

“Freddie?” He came up the stairs quickly and saw the way he was shaking, immediately concerned. “Freddie, darling, are you okay?”

“Cold.” He gritted out; his mind was functioning too slowly to help him. It was times like this that he wanted to give in. His muscles screamed and his head ached, he felt sick, he was too cold to speak, he was hungry and thirsty and desperate for another pill to stop the nausea. It was times like this that he’d given up before.

Not this time.

“Okay, darling, okay.” Jim sat him on the edge of the bed and dug out a warm pair of sweatpants and a big sweatshirt. He helped him get dried and dressed and draped a blanket over his shoulders. “You were in there for hours, darling, let’s get you some tea.”

Freddie nodded and let himself be picked up and carried downstairs. “Can I have another of those tablets? I feel sick.”

“Of course you can.” Jim sat him on the kitchen counter. He lined up a glass of water, two tablets, a mug of hot tea and one of those weight-gain milkshakes that the Royal forced him to drink when he started to lose weight. “I thought it would be easier than food.”

“You’re probably right.” Freddie nodded. “Thank you.”

* * *

“Daddy!” The children ran up to him as they got home; they paused, however, when they realised he was on the phone. “Who’s Daddy talking to?” Oliver asked Jim, still holding onto his hand.

Freddie smiled at them and rested his finger over his lips playfully. He wrote down a time on the little notepad and then hung up the receiver. “Hello, sweetness.” He picked Talulah up and smiled. Jim was relieved that a little warmth seemed to be coming back into his cheeks, that he was starting to look a little more human again. “How are you?”

“Good!” Talulah smiled. “I got to play with the water at playtime and Olly showed me how to make the waterfall work!”

“What was that?” Jim questioned and wrapped an arm around Freddie’s waist. “It wasn’t-” He trailed off, but Freddie knew the blank he was suggesting - a dealer.

“No.” Freddie kissed his cheek. “I’ve booked three hospital appointments for tomorrow. One with my therapist, a general health assessment, and one-” He lowered his voice so his children wouldn’t hear. “One at the sexual health clinic.”

“Do you want company?” He asked softly.

“If you want to.” Freddie nodded. “It would be nice.”

“You should come back to the Royal, too. At least talk to them. You weren’t fired, were you?” He checked.

“I’m on sick leave.” He placed Talulah down as the children ran into the kitchen for snacks. “I think Olga would have a heart attack if she saw me.”

“They might be able to help. Give you a meal plan or something. If you got back into training, you could put some muscle back on. It’s the beginning of the season, you could be back into it by next season.” He suggested. “I can come with you.”

“That would be good.” Freddie nodded. “Yeah, let’s do it.” He smiled down at the children. “Who wants Daddy’s special s’mores?”

The sight of their children, giggling, covered in chocolate and marshmallow, filled him with determination. The worst was almost over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: it's two chapters  
> Also me: wait I have more to write about this


	3. Inpatient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This focuses on a lot of weight recovery/anorexia treatment but is very positive? Like this got pretty fluffy very quickly but we love supportive husbands okay

_ Because there we are again in the middle of the night; _

_ We dance around the kitchen in the refrigerator light- _

“Can I start?” Freddie asked quietly, raising his hand meekly. He was looking better that evening, his hair cut back to its usual curls, his eyes a little brighter, his smile a little happier. He sipped a flask of good tea, warming him from the inside, filled with milk and sugar; he’d always taken it black for the sake of the calories, but he’d never enjoyed it that way. This time, though, he was letting himself have it how he liked it. “I’d like to reintroduce myself, if that’s okay?”

“Go ahead.” The leader smiled. No one was blind to Freddie’s improvement; it was good to see him looking healthier. 

“I’m Freddie.” He took another sip. “Freddie Hutton. I’m a recovering alcoholic and addict, and I’m also in recovery for anorexia.” He smiled down at his fingers, where his engagement ring hung loosely; he didn’t wear all three else he lost them. “I’ve been clean for four days, which is the longest I’ve gone in several months. I decided to quit cold turkey.”

He smiled again when they applauded. “I’m a principal dancer for the Royal Ballet, and I’m training to be strong enough to perform next season. I’m also the lead singer for a band called Queen. I have a husband and two young children who have just started school.”

“What changed?” The leader asked curiously. “I think we all want to know what happened.”

“I forced myself to sober up, and I went to see him. I told him what I told you about. Together we practically locked me in the house until the cravings stopped being as bad.” He crossed his legs and cradled his flask closely; Jim had made it for him before he left, something to keep his hands and his mouth busy. 

“And why did it change?” Another asked, and Freddie smiled.

“I wasn’t sure why at first. I just wanted to see my children, and I had to be sober to do that. And then- I realised what I was missing out on. I was missing out on storytime and bathtime and a little boy coming to me when he couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night.” He looked down momentarily. “I won’t pretend I didn’t want to relapse when I did. I wanted to push everything away and swallow as many as I could until my body gave out. And then, last night, I realised I didn’t want to anymore.”

“What happened?” Another echoed, leaning closer as though he had the secrets to life.

“I woke up in the middle of the night because I was hungry, which I haven’t felt in the longest time.” He explained. “And I thought I’d try and find a little something to eat. I switched on the radio while I made myself a little bowl of yoghurt and fruit, because I’m not allowed anything too challenging at the moment.”

“That sounds far more healthy than your old behaviour.” The leader smiled.

“It was. And I- I’m a dancer, you know, so I’m always moving to whatever I’m listening to. And so I was half eating, half cleaning my dishes, half dancing around my kitchen, and my husband just comes up behind me and starts dancing with me. And we stood there, in the middle of the night, dancing in the light of the fridge, just swaying together, and it felt like we were starting again. It felt like he wanted me, for the first time in a long while.” Freddie couldn’t help the smile. “This morning he put the divorce papers on the fire.”

_ “Can you make a fire, darling?” Jim asked with a smile. “This house is freezing and the children will complain if I make them wear socks.” _

_ “Of course.” Freddie got up from the sofa and started building the fire in the lounge. “Have we got any firestarters? I think I’ve probably lost my touch by now.” _

_ “We’ve got some matches on the shelf by the mantelpiece.” Jim smiled. “That’s the best we’ve got.” _

_ “That should be good.” Freddie nodded, grabbing one and lighting the kindling, using it to light the main fire as it got hotter. “Maybe I have still got it.” He sat back on his knees and glanced over at his husband. _

_ “Can you put this on the fire for me?” Jim handed over a little pile of papers and Freddie nodded mindlessly, tearing them in two before he realised what they were. _

_ “Wait, did you mean these?” He asked quickly. “There were two piles, darling, you might need to check you picked up the right one-” _

_ “I meant those.” Jim held his mug in both hands and leaned against the wall. “I want them burned, darling.” _

_ Freddie’s cheeks pinkened and he carefully distributed the torn papers over the fire, watching the edges curl as they set aflame. “Done.” He whispered and looked over at Jim as he sat down beside him. _

_ The fingers on his cheek were so tentative as they looked at each other for a long moment. Jim leaned in and touched their lips together gently, so gently; Freddie reached up and held one of his shoulders, tethering him to the ground as he indulged in the only kiss that would ever matter to him. There was something about kissing his husband that was different to anyone else in the whole world, kissing someone that he knew so completely inside out, someone who had been there for almost anything.  _

_ As they pulled away, Jim couldn’t hide his smile. “Welcome home, darling.” He said softly. _

* * *

“We’ll do half an hour today, with breaks.” Olga told him and quickly justified herself when he looked disheartened. “Freddie, darling, you’re so skinny you’ll faint if I put you straight back into mainstream training. You shouldn’t be doing any of this.”

“Can you-” Freddie looked away, embarrassed. “Can you not mention my weight? I know how bad it is, but there’s a part of me that still wants more, and every time people mention it it feels like they’re praising me.” He said quietly. “Which makes me want to lose more, so people will notice. But I’m on thin ice with the hospital, and I can’t risk it.”

“You went to the hospital?” She asked quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m anaemic and deficient in just about everything, but that’s probably not a surprise. I’ve been admitted to an outpatient clinic.” He told her. “But they told me that if I lose even a pound more then they’ll section me. Section three. I won’t be out for six months and the children will go back to the authorities.”

“Do you want to recover?” She questioned, sitting down beside him. “Honestly, Freddie?”

“Yes and no.” He told her, watching his fingers again. “Watching the scale go down is thrilling. I know I look awful, and I know that I hate feeling like this, but when he told me I was at eighty-eight I felt such a sick sense of pride.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“What’s the best you’ve ever felt about yourself?” She asked softly. “What can we aim for?”

“Chroma, last season.” He said immediately. “I was about a hundred and five. It was when we were all joking that Jim couldn’t conduct because I was doing an inhumanly sexual dance in just my boxers and a camisole. I was really lean because it was the end of the season and you could see all my muscles when I danced and I was so strong.”

“If you hit a hundred and five, Freddie, you’ll be almost safe. You’ll show the hospital you’re progressing, and you’ll feel better about yourself.” She wrapped an arm around him. “Can you try that for me?”

“I’m scared I’ll fail.” Freddie said quietly. “I’m scared I’ll lose before I gain. Jim wants to weigh me some mornings now, but if he sees eighty-seven then he’ll get scared and he’ll make me go in, and then they’ll section me.”

“You have to try for us all.” She took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Because you can do it. I know you can.”

Freddie rested his head on her shoulder and smiled tiredly. “What would I do without you, Olga?” He asked softly.

“Your ballet mum.” She joked and kissed his head. “Do you want to do some pointework or not?”

“Yeah.” Freddie nodded immediately, grabbing his bag. “I haven’t worn these since I went off sick.”

“They might be a bit loose. If you need to sew new elastic, that’s fine.” She said softly. “You might need to be refitted for a while.”

The width of them on his feet was almost comical; he cut a new elastic and sewed it quickly, trying to make the best of them. “Hang on, Fred.” She left the room for a second and came back with a new pair. “Two sizes smaller on the width and one on length. Try these.”

They fit him much better this time and he said his shy thanks. He sewed on ribbons and elastic and pulled them on quickly, forgoing his usual preparation; he only took them off momentarily to numb the ends of his toes. The first time back en pointe was always painful. “Let’s just start with an elevé in first and then in second. We’re not going to try and do too much today.”

The heel of his new shoes gave in quickly when he pressed his weight into it, letting his foot arch properly. He was struck by how different it felt en pointe this time, how much easier it felt; it was only then that the reality of his weight struck him, how much easier it was to lift thirty fewer pounds than the last time he tried. “It feels good.” He smiled, being sure to keep his feet turned out as he lowered down. “Ankles are weak. I don’t think I could let go of the barre.”

“Well, it’s good news that you don’t have to, then.” She smiled. “We’ll take this at your pace. How do you feel about your flexibility?”

“It’s probably horrible.” He said shyly. 

“Do you want to try a routine? Only a few seconds, nothing hard.” She offered. “Or would you rather work on flexibility?”

“The routine.” Freddie said immediately. “Please.”

“Start in fifth, if that’s okay. We’ll go fondu, front, plié, à la seconde, fondu, to the side, plié and carry back.” It was a familiar routine, one from his school days, to ease him into dancing several times a week.

He was surprised that he was out of breath by the end of it, his left leg shaking with the exertion of being held out. “When you’re as weak as you, Freddie, your body starts using your heart for energy.” She avoided pointing out his weight again, as per his request. “Your body will be eating your heart. It makes it very easy to be overwhelmed quickly.” She rested her hand on his back. “If you want to go professional again, then you need to put on that weight quickly.”

* * *

Jim was surprised by how hard Freddie tried at dinner, eating far more than either of them had anticipated. It wasn’t long, though, until he was laying on the sofa, curled up small, trying to think of anything other than being sick. The fatigue, the hangover of the withdrawal and the pressure in his stomach all made him feel so ill, but he forced himself to breathe shallowly, to swallow over and over, to try and keep everything down.

“Can I have one?” He croaked when Jim came into the room. “Please, darling, please-”

“Have what, Freddie?” He crouched beside his lover. “Codeine?”

Freddie shook his head and his stomach lurched violently. “Sickness.” He got out, holding a hand over his mouth just in case. 

Jim brought him two tablets and a glass of water and rubbed his back while he took them. After a few minutes, his breathing started to even out, and he uncurled a little. “I got it down, and it’s fucking staying down.” He muttered resolutely. “Come hell or high water.”

Jim pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and lay back amongst the sofa cushions, pulling Freddie down with him. “You’ve done so well.” He said softly. “I thought- I honestly thought, darling, that you’d bottle it when it got hard. I didn’t think you were that serious.” He pet his fingers through Freddie’s hair as he curled up close. “I’m so proud of you, Freddie, and I’m so grateful.”

“Thank you for letting me stay at your house.” Freddie said softly. “I would’ve failed if I’d been on my own.”

“Our house.” Jim corrected him gently. “This is our sofa, next door is our kitchen, upstairs is our bed. It’s ours, sweetheart, it’s not mine.”

“Ours.” Freddie echoed; the word relaxed him, made the tension bleed from his muscles. “I want to stay, Jim.”

“I want you to stay for as long as you want to.” Jim pulled him in even closer, kissing his lips gently. “As long as you’re willing to try and get better.”

Freddie nodded tiredly. “I want to be a dancer again.” He said quietly. “And I can’t if I’m like this. We tried dancing today and I couldn’t do a routine that I could do at nine.” He rested a hand over his face. “God, my head is fucked.”

“What do you mean?” Jim asked him softly. “Isn’t that a good thing to aim towards?”

“It is.” Freddie nodded. “But there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to recover, and I’m scared it’s too strong. I’m scared they’ll section me.”

“Section you?” Jim echoed in disbelief. “Is that what they said when they made me leave the room?”

Freddie nodded. “If I lose any more weight, they’ll put me on inpatient and I won’t be able to leave until I’ve hit at least a hundred and five, but that could take months.”

“Christ.” Jim murmured. “Listen, darling, we can do it here, okay? Look at how hard you tried at dinner, that’s just proof that you can do it.” He said softly. “If you’re strong enough to quit the drugs cold turkey, then you’re strong enough to put the weight back on.”

* * *

Jim tried to have an empty schedule when they were at the Royal together, just in case anything happened; he’d spend an hour or so composing or practising in his little studio, enjoying the stress relief and the peace and quiet of having his own space. More often than not, Freddie would come to him after a session just to update him on how it went or to eat where he felt like he wouldn’t be watched by all the staff.

Today, though, he came into the room shaky and tearful. “Freddie?” Jim stood up quickly and went over to him, hugging him tightly. “Darling, what’s the matter?”

Freddie dropped two tablets into the palm of his hand, his fingers trembling. “They were trying to be nice.” He whimpered. “I hurt my foot and they thought I was self-punishing because I refused to take them and Christopher said he’d make me take them because I was being ridiculous.”

Jim dropped them onto the floor and crushed them with the heel of his shoe, kicking at the dust to disperse it. He held Freddie closely, an arm around his waist and one cradling the back of his head, shushing him gently until he started to calm down. “Thank you for coming to me.” Jim said softly. “That was so strong of you, darling.”

“I knew it would make me spiral.” He whispered. “If I took two, I’d want two more, and then it would be four, and then we’d be back to square one.”

Jim wiped under his eyes gently. “What happened to your foot, sweetness?”

“There was a screw coming up from the floor and I was dancing in my split-soles and it went straight into my foot.” He sat down on the floor and Jim sat beside him, grabbing a few things from Freddie’s bag. He took a cream first of all, antiseptic and anaesthetic, and carefully applied it to where he’d injured; then he carefully wound the bandage around his foot, tucking it into place with a safety pin. 

“That should help.” Jim said softly. “What have you got for the rest of the day?”

“I haven’t got anything else here. I’m just doing little half-hour, basic technical classes.” Freddie rested his head on his shoulder. “I’ve got an outpatient appointment, though. I’ve got them twice a week for now, because they don’t trust me.”

“Do you want to go on your own or do you want company?” Jim asked him. “I’ll come if you want me to, sweetheart.”

“Please.” Freddie nodded. “I’ve never been there before. I’ve always had appointments at the hospital, but this is a proper clinic. I’m-” He looked away and blushed. “I’m scared of what they’ll say.”

Jim grabbed his coat from the hook on the door and took his hand. “Let’s go then, Cinderella.” He smiled and kissed his cheek gently. “Let’s face your fears.”

* * *

“It’s actually kind of nice in here.” He admitted, curling up in one of the armchairs. “I thought it would be more clinical. More like a hospital.”

Jim traced the bones in the back of Freddie’s hand. “This is some people’s home, remember. They have to make it a little bit nice.”

Freddie nodded and rested his head on their joined hands. “Thank you for coming with me.” He said shyly. “I find this stuff hard when I’m alone.”

“You’re welcome. It’s good that you’ve made the appointments in the first place.” Jim kissed his forehead and then sat up when the nurse came in. 

“You must be Freddie!” She said with a sunny smile. “I’m Lauren, it’s lovely to meet you.” She held out a hand and smiled when he shook it. “Who have you brought with you today?”

Jim wanted to let Freddie talk; this was about him, going at his pace. “This is my husband.” He said shyly. “Jim.”

Jim smiled warmly as they shook hands. “Do you mind if we start with the weigh-in?” Freddie asked quietly. “That’s- that’s the stressful bit for me.”

“You’re not alone in that one, sweetheart.” She smiled. “Of course we can. I’ve had your details over from the hospital, so I know what we were at before and what we’re aiming for.”

Freddie stood up and kicked off his shoes; Jim could see that he was scared from the way that his hands were trembling. “Hop on.” She smiled and Freddie did as he was told, refusing to look at the scales. He was terrified that they’d read eighty-seven.

“Ninety and a half.” She said with a smile. Freddie’s face lit up and Jim walked over to him quickly, wrapping him up in a hug.

“I’m so proud of you.” He said softly. “I’m so, so proud of you, darling. I told you that you could do it, and you can.”

* * *

Freddie curled up to his son, holding him closely; Oliver smiled and tucked his face in the crook of Freddie’s neck. “I love you, Daddy.” He said softly, playing with Freddie’s engagement ring. He could hear Talulah talking to Jim in the kitchen, but he was happy to stay where he was, cuddled up to his Daddy who he’d missed so badly. 

“I love you too, little man.” Freddie smiled and drew little patterns on Oliver’s back. “I missed you so much while I was away, Bear.”

“I missed you too.” He said quietly, pale green eyes blinking up innocently at his father. “Daddy, what’s wrong with you? Why did you go away?”

“I was very poorly, sweetheart.” He said gently. “I have a nasty illness that means that it’s hard to eat.”

Oliver’s eyes turned big and concerned and he hugged Freddie tightly. “Are you still poorly?” He asked quietly.

“Yes, darling.” Freddie said softly. “But I’m getting better now, I promise. I might have to go back to the doctor for a little while if things don’t work out, but they are working out for now.”

Oliver nodded and smoothed his thumb over each of Freddie’s nails, smiling to himself. “I’m happy you’re getting better.” He said shyly.

“Boys?” Jim stood in the doorway and smiled. “Dinner’s ready.”

Freddie picked up Oliver and they walked into the kitchen together. “Thank you, darling.” He kissed Jim’s cheek and poured himself a glass of water, taking his tablets before they started.

Jim had taken to holding his hand over dinner, playing with his fingers or stroking his thumb over his knuckles, a small and comforting rhythm that helped him to relax with his family. Freddie rested his head on Jim’s shoulder, taking little breaks every few minutes, and smiled apologetically. “Sorry.” He whispered.

“Don’t be sorry. You’re doing well.” Jim said softly. “You don’t have to eat it all, darling, don’t force yourself to do too much.”

“I want to do well.” Freddie said earnestly. “I think I can do a little more.”

“Go for it.” Jim’s smile was wide and he moved his hand to go around his waist. “I love you.”

Freddie’s face lit up then and he smiled. “I love you, too.” He said shyly; it was the first time Jim had said it to him in nearly five months. 

Jim smiled at how well his little encouragement worked as Freddie went back to eating; he smiled even wider at Freddie’s laugh when Peaches came and nuzzled his foot. “Hi!” He said excitedly, petting the cat’s ears. “I forgot that he can tell when I’m stressed.”

“He’s magical.” Jim agreed; Talulah leaned down to cuddle the cat. “Darling, make sure that you wash your hands before you eat again, please.”

“Yes, Pop.” She smiled sweetly. “Pop, is Peaches Daddy’s cat? He likes Daddy the most.”

“Peaches is specially trained to be able to tell when I’m sad or I’m finding something scary.” Freddie explained to her. “And so he comes over to me and cuddles me when he can tell that I feel like that.”

“That’s so cool.” Oliver smiled. “Can we get another kitty like that, Pop?”

Jim smiled over at Freddie as he cleared his plate and stood up, collecting the empty dishes and stacking them by the sink. “I’m going to make some tea, darling, do you want one?” He offered.

Jim picked up Talulah to help her wash her hands at the sink; he then sat her on the side by Freddie. “That would be lovely.” He leaned over and kissed Freddie’s cheek. 

“Daddy?” Talulah smiled up at him. “I’m happy you’re home. Pop’s happy now.”

“We’re all happy now, darling.” Freddie got their matching mugs from the cupboard and couldn’t hide his smile. It finally felt as though he was being accepted back into the family, and that made him happier than anything; it was the incentive he needed to get clean, stay clean, and get healthy again.

* * *

Freddie sat on the floor of the corridor, cold linoleum cutting through his thin ballet tights; he shivered as he dialled the number for home. He wrapped one arm around himself, already sadder now that he was on his own. The temptation to self-discharge was high, the temptation to give into the cravings now that he was bored and upset and disappointed with himself; instead, he resorted to calling his husband. “Hello?” Jim answered, sounding a little stressed.

“Jim?” Freddie breathed a sigh of relief. “Jim, darling, it’s Freddie. I- I just needed to hear you.”

“Freddie?” His voice softened. “Sweetheart, where are you? I’ve been so worried.”

“I’m at Vincent Square.” He said quietly. “The clinic. I- you don’t have to worry, darling, it’s nothing serious, but I had a fall at work, and they brought me here. I can’t come home tonight.”

Jim felt relieved that he was, at least, somewhere safe. “How come?” He asked gently. “Have you lost again?”

“No, no.” Freddie said quickly. “I’m still at ninety. No, I was dehydrated, and it turns out that it’s a side effect of those tablets. I went all silly and I fainted, so they’ve put me on an IV for the night. If I’m alright tonight then they’ll let me home in the morning.”

“Can I come and see you?” Jim asked softly. “I can bring you some pajamas and your blanket.”

Freddie started to smile. “That would be nice.” He said shyly. “Could you- could you bring me some dinner? I hate the food that they give out in these places.”

“Of course I can.” Jim smiled then. “I’ll have to bring the kids, though, will that be okay? They won’t be- scared, or anything?” He winced at the sound of his own voice.

“I’ve just got a cannula, it’s nothing frightening. They wanted to tube me but I refused because I thought it would scare them.” He said softly.

“If they want to tube you, Freddie, then it might be best to let them.” He said gently. “It’ll only be for a little while.”

“It was between that and following their meal plan. They said I could choose dinner so long as I wasn’t the one cooking it.” Freddie explained. “They’ve got me on Complan, too. They’re going for it, seeing as they’ve got me for the night.”

“Okay, darling, okay.” He said soothingly. “I’ll be there in a little while.”

Oliver looked around curiously as they walked into the building, holding Talulah’s hand, who was holding Jim’s hand in turn. “Where’s Daddy?” She asked softly. 

“He’s got his own room, darling, just down the hall.” Jim explained. “He’s just resting for now.”

Jim knocked on the door softly and then opened it, revealing a sleepy Freddie laying on top of his covers, shivering a little. Talulah’s smile widened and she ran over to him. “Daddy!” She said happily, unperturbed by the sight of him. 

Freddie rubbed his eyes and smiled. “Hi, Lulah.” He chuckled as she climbed up onto the bed. “Mind the tube, sweetheart.” She sat happily in his lap and hugged him tightly. 

“What’s in your hand, Daddy?” Oliver asked, sitting up beside him. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.” He said honestly. “You know when you’re really super thirsty and you have to have a big glass of water? Well, my body is really, really thirsty, and so we’ve put this in to help me get lots of water more quickly.”

“That’s helpful.” Oliver smiled. “It’s nice here.”

“Some people live here. This is where I lived while I was away from you and Pop.” It was a lie, but it was a convincing lie that fit in with the story Jim had been telling them all along. “I get looked after here.”

“The nurse smiled at me as we walked in and all the chairs are red.” Talulah nodded. “I like it here.”

“Oh, you’ve brought your family!” Lauren came into the room and smiled. “Don’t worry, your daddy is going to be just fine.” She smiled sweetly at the children. “How did you get on with the drink, Fred?”

“It’s definitely better hot.” He smiled as Talulah rested her head on his collarbone. “Can I- can I get another one, if that’s okay? It was nice.”

“Of course.” She smiled at him. “Anything you want, darling, as I said before. I’ll bring it after your dinner.”

The children were mostly asleep by the time he’d finished eating; Jim leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “How are you doing tonight?” He asked softly.

“Good and bad.” He replied, rubbing slow circles on Talulah’s back. “I’ve eaten a lot today.”

“Is that good?” Jim rubbed his thumb over Freddie’s, avoiding his cannula.

“I don’t know.” He said quietly. “I’m quite proud of myself, weirdly. I didn’t think I’d feel proud. I mean, at the same time, I feel disgusting, but I just keep reminding myself that I can’t dance and I don’t look good as a skeleton.”

“I’m glad that you’re not too upset.” He said softly. “You sounded pretty desperate when you were on the phone.”

“I was about to make a stupid decision and I thought if I phoned you then it might stop me.” He admitted. “I didn’t want to give up before I even tried.”

“What were you going to do?” He asked. 

“Self-discharge. I got really miserable because I’d been on my own for a couple of hours, and I wanted to just say fuck it and go and buy something I shouldn’t.” He said quietly. “So instead I phoned you because I knew I was being illogical and I wasn’t here because you didn’t want me.”

“I’m glad you’ve stayed.” He said softly. “They might want you to do some overnight stays, darling, and I think we just need to do what they say. If it can help you, then it’s worth it.” 

* * *

Freddie would be forever thankful for his husband; he had taken the children to stay with Kash for the night and had come back to stay with him for the night. “You know.” Jim pulled him closer; it was a long time since they’d shared a single bed, but he was secretly thrilled that there was an excuse for them to be close. “I’m so glad you came back to me and told me the truth.”

“I’m so glad that you’ve let me back in.” He said softly. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“I’m glad you came back before it was too late. You’re already looking better, you’ve got more colour in your cheeks.” He kissed Freddie’s cheek playfully. 

“I’m less tired all the time. I mean, I’m sleepy when I stop and rest, but that’s not especially surprising, seeing as I’m still too skinny.” He yawned and rested his head on Jim’s chest. “Why did you change your mind about me?”

“Because it wasn’t your fault. What you went through, you couldn’t control. I was angry because I thought you did it deliberately, and then I was angry that you didn’t tell me and you let yourself spiral like this, and then I realised I was being ridiculous.” He trailed his fingers over the bumps of his spine. “I thought that realistically, my kids weren’t going to have their daddy around for much longer if I didn’t do anything to help you. And I realised that if I stayed angry with you, you wouldn’t recover, and then I’d keep being angry, and it’s a stupid spiral. If I’m more supportive, you can recover, and then we can be happy again. That’s what we need to do.”

Freddie nodded tiredly. “I wouldn’t have stayed. You know me too well.”

“Roger, when he came to check up on you on that first day, he told me that you- you tried to-” Jim couldn’t get the words up. “I couldn’t have left you like that.”

“Oh, I-” Freddie sighed. “He’s convinced it was more deliberate than it was. I was really, really low and I took too many and I went for a long walk and that’s as much as I can remember. Someone must’ve found me and I ended up in the Royal London in Whitechapel. I didn’t try to do anything, I was just trying to numb it.”

“I just want you to be okay.” Jim kissed his forehead. “You’re my husband, Freddie, and I love you so much. I want you to be healthy and happy and I want you to still be here in years to come.” He smiled shyly. “I might be selfish, but I want to wake up next to you when I’m seventy-five and wrinkled.”

The door opened quietly and Freddie immediately shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep, and elbowed Jim to make him do the same. The nurse came into the room and shook him a little, checking his responsiveness, his vitals and his IV line, changing the cannula when she realised it was blocked. When she left, he opened his eyes and rolled them playfully. “This is why I don’t want to go inpatient. You’re never left alone.”

“Why?” Jim asked softly. “What was she doing?”

“Checking on me. They’re scarily observant.” He whispered. “When I was inpatient last time, they were good enough to be able to tell if you’d be sick or if you’d been chugging water, and they’d let you know that they were disappointed. I must’ve spent half of the first six months on one to one.”

“How many times have you been in one of these places, then?” He asked curiously. “You sound like a veteran.”

“Not really.” He smiled. “If I was a veteran then I would’ve been in and out while we were together. I was in when I was fourteen, and that was six months long, and then I was in again when I was seventeen, for ten months, and I discharged myself against medical advice then. The first time was India, the second was London.”

“Seventeen in London?” He questioned. “I thought you lived in India before you came to the Royal?”

“When I came for my audition in London I was seventeen and that was the first thing that happened with Paul. I was already sick because I’d been kicked out and I was stressed about audition season. It was actually the Royal that referred me to Phoenix, where I was last time.” He yawned and curled up. “I discharged myself about two months before I moved back to London, so I did live in India briefly.”

“Why were you there for so long? Ten months is a lot.” He asked softly.

“I refused to get better. I wasn’t ready to recover then. So they kept tubing me, and I kept being sick, and we didn’t get anywhere.” He shrugged. “I should’ve been re-referred when I was with Paul because I was awful, but we wouldn’t have gotten anywhere again. Even when I was with you at first, I was still bad. But when things got better, and I stopped having to stress about different triggers, I stopped having to use it as a coping mechanism because I felt like I could finally cope with my life.” He smiled. “I felt like I had some control again and I felt like you helped me cope a lot with everything that troubled me. The voice kind of- fell into the background. I don’t know if it ever went away, but I stopped having to listen to it.”

“How do you feel about that now? About coping?” Jim asked; he tried to not show how delighted he was that he had the power to help Freddie.

“I can do it if you’re here.” He smiled shyly. “It was hard to cope on my own. I mean, that’s obvious.”

“You can do it.” Jim kissed his forehead. “Let’s get some sleep before the nurse shouts at us.”

“Deal.” Freddie smiled and settled down.

* * *

“This is going to be horrendous.” Freddie looked away. “I know it’s gone up because of the IV, but it’s going to be more than I want and I just have to make peace with that.” He stepped onto the scales when Jim let go of his hand and covered his eyes.

“You’re a paradox, Freddie.” Lauren smiled. “I rarely meet people that want to recover as much as you, and yet you’re so scared.”

“I don’t mind the weight, but I hate the numbers.” He said softly. “I want to look better and feel better, but I don’t want to see the number go up.”

“You don’t have to know them if that would make it better for you.” She said gently. “We can just note them down if that helps.”

“No-” Freddie shook his head immediately and opened his eyes. “I’m not losing control over it.”

“Ninety-three.” She told him. “I think you’ve gained about two and a half in water. When you come in next time, we’ll be able to see what your weight is when you’ve levelled out a bit.”

Freddie sat in the chair opposite her, looking deflated. “Okay.” He said quietly. “When can I go home?”

Jim took his hand gently. “Well, we do want you to stay with us for a little while, just until you get back up to a hundred, now that we’ve seen the risk of fainting-”

“No!” He said quickly. “No, you said you wouldn’t do this, please-” He covered his mouth as he shook with anxiety. “I don’t want to stay, don’t make me stay, I can’t-”

“Freddie, darling, we’re not going to force you. We’re not going to section you, sweetheart, calm down.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “It would be good for you to do some overnight stays with us, like you’ve done today, and you can share that time with your home time, if you don’t want to stay full time.”

Jim kissed the side of his head. “We can do that, can’t we?” He said softly. 

“Monday night and Wednesday night.” Freddie rubbed a hand through his hair. “That’s all I’ll do. I don’t want to come any more than that.”

“We can start with that.” She smiled. “The same concerns obviously apply for if you lose while you’re at home and gain with us. We don’t want you bouncing up and down between home and here.”

“I just want to get better now.” He rubbed his face. “I can’t be doing this for the rest of my life.”

“You don’t have to do it for any longer if we just get you back up to being a healthy weight again.” Jim kissed his cheek. “And we can do that, darling, together.”

“Together.” Freddie finally cracked a smile and blushed when he was kissed. “You’re right.”


	4. Tubes and Wires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Statistically, you usually get worse before you get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When did this become a recovery fic? I'm not sure, but I'm really enjoying writing it so here you go my friends! 
> 
> Again, happiness increases throughout the chapter

_The first line on the first page,_

_To the end of the last page;_

_From the start in your own way,_

_You just want somebody listening to what you say_

_It doesn't matter who you are-_

“Eighty-six.” Lauren crossed her arms as he stepped off the scales. “You’ve lost, Freddie. That’s like four pounds from the last proper weigh-in.”

Jim could see the fear behind his eyes. “Weight fluctuates, doesn’t it?” He tried desperately. “It doesn’t mean that I’ve necessarily lost, as such-”

“It doesn’t fluctuate by four pounds. I’m afraid, Freddie, that’s still a loss, even-” She was cut off by Freddie jumping up quickly.

“It’s not a loss!” He looked as though he were about to cry. “Listen, I- I chugged water before my weigh-ins, I was eighty-five. I thought you wouldn’t let me go home, I thought if I could influence your decision then I had to make myself as heavy as I could and so I thought if I caned a few litres of water I could make you think I was heavier than I was.”

“Which is why you threw up after your weigh in.” She sighed. “So it’s technically a gain.”

“Exactly!” Freddie nodded. “So I’m making progress, you see.”

She looked down at the paper in front of her and sighed. “I can’t let you go home, Freddie. I can’t let you leave this facility.”

“What?” He asked, horrified. “But I made progress- I put on weight!”

“Eighty-six is too light for us to let you out.” She tried to keep her voice steady.

“It’s only two pounds difference from eighty-eight and you let me out when you thought I was that!” His voice wavered at the end.

Jim took his hand and carefully pulled him back down into his seat. “Freddie, love, calm down.” He said softly. “Listen to what she’s saying.”

“We can’t let you out if we know that we can’t trust you with the weigh-ins. You’ll have to stay with us for a little while.” She said gently.

“I don’t want to.” He whimpered. “I’m sorry, please, I want to go home, I have children-”

She set out a long sigh. “Freddie Hutton, I’m authorising your detention under section three of the Mental Health Act-”

“No!” He cried out. “No, please, I’ll come voluntarily, don’t section me.” He said desperately. “Please, I’ll sign anything, I’ll comply, don’t section me, please-”

She handed him some papers. “These are voluntary admission papers. If you sign them, we’ll undertake treatment until you’re able to live functionally in the outside world, and you’ll be able to take leave and overnight trips when you get better. If I’m forced to section you, you’ll have to serve a minimum of twenty-eight days, up to a maximum of six months, at which point your section can be renewed indefinitely. If you come in voluntarily, visitors are unlimited; if you’re sectioned, you can’t have visitors for the first month of your stay.”

Freddie was snatching the pen out of her hand to sign the voluntary papers. “I need to get home as soon as I can. I need to be with my children. I can’t be in here for six months.”

* * *

“How are you doing?” Jim asked softly. “How has your day been?”

“Awful.” Freddie rested his head against the cool tiles of the wall. “I’ve been sick four times in three hours. They make me sit there until I’ve finished everything and then we have something else and it’s too much. It’s everything that I’ve always hated eating and then we have to finish it off with loads of sweets and my stomach just isn’t used to it. They think I’m doing it deliberately.”

Jim sat on the floor of the corridor, huddling closer to the receiver as if it were Freddie himself. “I missed you today.” He said quietly. “I sorted everything out at the Royal for you. I only told Olga where you actually are.”

“Thank you.” Freddie sighed. “I’ve been here for about sixteen hours and I’m already on one to one because I’m an idiot.”

“What did you do?” Jim asked quietly. “Have you lost again?”

“No.” Freddie sighed. “I was feeling ill and I thought- I thought I’d just help it along. I’m not allowed those tablets here, and so I thought I would stop feeling sick if I just was sick. I went into the bathroom and I got two fingers down my throat and one of the fucking nurses caught me.” He paused for a second. “It was a beginner’s mistake. I’ve lost my knack since I was last in one of these prisons.”

Jim managed a little chuckle, but he didn’t like the sound of how he was doing; he suspected there was more under the surface. At home, he’d been able to eat as much as he wanted, rest when he wanted, talk when he wanted, dance when he wanted, and he seemed to be pushing himself to get better: now, in the clinic, he was making himself sick. “You have to try, darling.” He said comfortingly. “The kids have a parents’ evening in a few weeks, and I’d like you to come, but you’ll have to be well enough.”

“I’d like that.” Freddie said quietly. “I want to be out in a few weeks, no matter what.”

“I thought I’d come tomorrow evening, if that’s okay?” Jim offered. “It’ll have to be late because we’ve got a matinee that I can’t get out of. I’ll drop the kids with Kash, it’ll be gone their bedtime by the time I get to you.”

“That’d be good.” Freddie sounded distant and sad. “Can you stay over?”

“If they’ll let me.” He said warmly. “I’ll try my best, darling.”

* * *

It had been a week, a week since admission, two weeks since he’s gone cold turkey on the codeine, by now a distant memory. He didn’t need that addiction anymore; his new obsession was food, was restricting it, was cheating the nurses in any way he could. His new obsession was thinking about trauma until he panicked and made himself sick; his new obsession was resolutely keeping his mouth shut at mealtimes, eyeing the food in front of him with suspicion. His new obsession was showing them how much better he would be doing at home.

“Eighty-three.” Lauren sighed. “You’re not going to cooperate with us, are you? You’re here voluntarily.”

“Because you’ll section me if I try and leave.” He crossed his arms.

“What’s Jim going to say about all this?” She asked, slightly exasperated. “He’ll be disappointed in you.”

It was a dirty trick on his low self-esteem but he refused to rise to it. “I know what he’ll say. He’ll say I need to gain, and he’ll say that I was doing better at home.”

In reality, Freddie hated this game: he was tired all the time, his mouth was dry, his throat was sore from stomach acid, he could barely stand to walk to the bathroom. He wanted to get better, but he wanted to get better at home. 

“I need to discuss your treatment with him. I don’t think you’re in the frame of mind of a responsible adult at the moment.” She tapped her pen against her clipboard. “You’re behaving like a child.”

“And you’re behaving like a shit mother.” He spat back. “He’s coming tonight.”

“I’m going to get his permission to tube you tonight. I’ll put you under myself if I have to.” She said, the threat clear in her voice.

“He won’t agree to it.” Freddie said, though his voice wavered unsurely.

“Sure he won’t.” She replied sarcastically. “I’m sure he’d much rather watch you go through heart failure.”

Freddie was fast asleep by the time Jim came to visit; he slept most of the day when he wasn’t forced up for meals or therapy. Starving himself only ever made him miserable, cold and tired, and it was easier just to sleep. “Freddie?” He asked quietly as he turned on the lamp in the room. When the light fell on his figure, Jim was horrified. “Shit, Freddie-” He wrapped his arms around his husband. “What have they done to you?”

“He’s been fasting for three days. We can’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do.” Lauren stood in the door, getting in first before Freddie could. “I need to discuss options with you, because he’s not in the right frame of mind to consider treatment, and he’ll go into cardiac arrest otherwise.”

Freddie clutched tight to him; Jim could see the fear behind his battle-hardened expression. “What are the options?” He asked Lauren.

“A feeding tube. He refuses to eat, and it’s the only way we can get some weight on him.” She sighed. “I didn’t want it to have to come to this.”

“It doesn’t have to come to that.” Jim shook his head. “Lauren, can we have a minute?”

“Go ahead.” She shrugged and closed the door.

“Don’t let them do it.” Freddie said immediately. “I want to come home, I’ll eat when I can come home, I fucking hate it here.”

“Listen, darling.” Jim cupped his cheek and kissed him lightly. “I haven’t had dinner this evening yet, either. Your mother, though, left me some food in the fridge that she’d cooked when I told her you were ill again. I think she made some Dhansak.” He held his hand gently. “If I go and get that, will you eat dinner with me?”

“Only if you’re here.” Freddie said quietly, but he couldn’t deny that he salivated at the idea of his mother’s cooking - he’d missed it so much when he’d moved to London. In India, he’d been able to find good street food, but there was nothing Parsi in London. “Please.”

“Deal.” Jim smiled. “I’m sure they’ll warm it up for us here. It’s time we started getting you better.”

Freddie started taking more water again while he was waiting for Jim, sipping enough to finally quench the thirst at the back of his throat. Elouise, his one-to-one nurse, squeezed his shoulder and smiled. “Thank you, Fred.” She said gently.

Freddie looked inside the bag that Jim brought and smiled excitedly. “Did she put pumpkin in it?” He asked hopefully.

“Who knows?” Jim wrapped an arm around his waist to help him walk to the kitchen. “You can always tell better than I can. You can decipher all of the spices, and I don’t even know the names of half of them.”

Jim grabbed a clean pot from the counter and spooned in some for the both of them, setting it on the heat to warm up. “I brought you a few other things, too.” He smiled, a little twinkle in his eye. “A few treats. I thought you could have them if you didn’t want to eat what they give you.”

“Oh?” Freddie sat in a chair at the dining table and leaned on the table, looking over at his husband. He knew people were watching him, but he finally felt as though he could relax with Jim around. “Like what?”

“Khichdi. I thought it would be good on a bad day.” He smiled. “Some farcha and jardaloo sali boti. Also malido.” He winked.

“Malido?” Freddie echoed excitedly. “God, you spoil me!”

“I was going to get you fudge, but I thought malido would be better. It was the first thing Jer made for you.” He smiled. “She’d be happy to know I brought it for you.”

“You’re making me hungry just talking about it.” Freddie smiled. “I can’t resist her cooking.”

“I don’t think she can resist cooking for you.” He chuckled as he stirred their dinner quickly. “I think it makes her feel helpful. She knows that you don’t want to eat, but she knows you’re more likely to eat her cooking.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to eat.” He rested his chin on his palm. “I don’t want to eat so much it makes me sick and I hate all the English crap they feed me. English food isn’t that bad, but they make everything so mushy and so bland and it’s enough to put you off anything.”

“I’m sure if you phone her she can make you some things to last through the week. We’d all like for you to eat more, darling.” Jim plated up their dinner and sat with him, instinctively holding his hand. “Try and eat as much as you can. The more you can eat, the more we can show them that you’re better off at home.”

Freddie took his first mouthful and felt a burst of spices. “There’s definitely pumpkin.” He laughed as a little slipped down his chin. “Potato, tomato, brinjal-”

“Brinjal?” He chuckled. “I’ve never heard of that.” He teased.

“Aubergine!” He shook his head. “I always forget, sue me. It’s not my fault we have a different name for it.”

Jim was delighted by how different he seemed already, so much happier and more excitable. “I should’ve kept this at home.” He said playfully. “It’s so good.”

“It’s delicious.” He smiled. “Thank you for bringing it for me.”

“Thank you for eating it.” He said earnestly and squeezed Freddie’s hand. “It’s scary when you starve. It frightens me, darling, because you know it can’t be good for you and because you know it’ll mean that you’re here for even longer.”

“I know.” He looked over and sighed a little. “I just want to come home.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Jim soothed. “And so we’ll negotiate with them. The better you get, the more time you get at home. But that’s not going to work if they’re forced to tube you.”

“You’re right.” Freddie said begrudgingly. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, darling.” Jim replied. “I love you so much, sweetheart, this is just a blip in the road.”

Freddie fell asleep that night tucked up to his husband, buried in his blanket, finally feeling relaxed and full.

* * *

“You brought the baby!” Freddie lit up as Kash walked into his little room. “Oh my God, darling, how is she?”

“Never mind the baby, Freddie, how are you?” She sat on his bed and hugged him with her spare arm. “God, you’re so thin!”

“You’re in the anorexic ward, darling, you shouldn’t be surprised.” He smiled. “You’re a doctor, after all.”

“It’s weird when it’s your own family, though.” She sat crossed legged opposite him and bounced the baby. “I’ve known you my whole life and I thought you got over it when you settled down with Jim. It’s just a shock, is all.”

“It’s so easy to fall back into.” Freddie admitted. “I am trying, though. I want to get better.”

“I know you do, darling.” Kash said softly. “You wouldn’t have put yourself in here if you weren’t trying. You could have chosen to stay at home and starve, and you didn’t.”

“I came in at eighty-five, went down to eighty-three, and I’m at eighty-four now. They’re trying to stop me putting it on too quickly because of the electrolyte imbalances and the change in metabolism.” He smiled a little. “Ma brought me a whole ton of food because I was refusing to eat what they make. I’m being spoiled.”

“You’re not being spoiled.” She said gently. “You’re allowed to eat what you like, Freddie. It’s much better than refusing altogether.”

“We’ve agreed that I can go home for the weekend when I get to ninety, and I get one day a week at home. When I get to ninety-two, I can have two days, when I get to ninety-five, I get three days, and when I get to a hundred I can go back into outpatient.” He picked at his nails. “I feel really bad for the kids. What kind of father am I?”

“A sick father, Fred, not a bad father. It’s not your fault, what those guys did to you, and it’s okay that you’re ill. It’s much better that you get healthy and then you can be a good role model to those kids.” She rocked the baby a little. “You want a cuddle?”

“Yes!” He said eagerly; although his own plans for a baby would have to go on hold for a while, he could indulge in his niece instead. He took the baby carefully and sat back against the headboard, carefully brushing his fingers through the soft hair on the baby’s head. “Oh, she looks like you.”

“She looks like you.” Kash chuckled. “I think she’s going to have the same eye thing that you did.”

  
  
“Eye thing?” He questioned, cooing a little when she gripped onto his finger. “Hello, darling.” He said softly. “I missed you!”

“When your eyes changed from green to brown. Hers are green, too. Mine never did that.” She smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

“She’s a proper little Parsi.” He joked; it felt good to take the focus off himself for a little while. “A little jigar.” 

“She’s just perfect.” She said quietly. “I don’t think Ma really trusts me with her. She spends half her time fussing with her and coming to me with a thousand different things that might be wrong with her. She never did that with your kids.”

“That’s because they still lived in India when I had Olly and Lulah. By the time they got here, I was very settled with them. You’re also the baby of the family, and you’re a girl. She probably feels a duty to help you out as a mother.” Freddie said soothingly. “It’s not to do with your parenting ability.” 

“I know.” She smiled. “It’s nice, in a way. How much she cares.”

“Exactly.” Freddie nodded. At the click of the door, he glanced up quickly, and his heart sunk when he saw the time on the clock. “I hate this.” He muttered, handing the baby back to Kash. “They’ve got to do my bloods.”

“You hate needles.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Do you want me to do it?”

“You can’t do it, miss.” Lauren came into the room. “It’s difficult. You have to be trained.”

The look that Kash gave him was comforting; he clearly wasn’t the only one that hated this nurse. She took her badge from her bag and showed it to her. “Kash Bulsara. I’m a junior consultant at Chelsea and Westminster. Believe me, I know how to take blood.”

“Oh.” She replied, a little put-out. “Well, go for it. Maybe he won’t fight you as much as he does me.”

“It’s because she’s a bitch and she makes it hurt.” Freddie muttered. “Because she hates me.”

Kash smacked his leg playfully. “Take the baby while I wash my hands, then.”

“Back and forth.” Freddie kissed the little girl’s forehead. “Don’t know who you’re sleeping on, do you?” He said playfully. He sat back against the headboard and laid the baby against his chest, supporting her with one arm. “Can I keep her while we do this?”

“Go for it.” Kash smiled and dried her hands. “She’ll appreciate the body heat. She likes to cuddle, she gets grumpy when I try to put her down, and this is a weird and new environment for her.” She couldn’t help the delight in her expression when she took in the sight of her brother and her baby together. “Which arm?”

Freddie presented his right arm and she laughed. “Brave choice when you’re right-handed.” She cleaned off his arm and tapped a little, frowning at the bruise in the crook of his elbow. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s supposed to.” Freddie shrugged. “It’s a needle going in my arm.”

“Do you always have it done in this arm?” She asked. “In your elbow? Or do you have it done on your wrist and your hand as well?”

“Right elbow. That’s the place we’ve always taken it from.” Lauren leaned against the wall.

“You need to move it around.” Kash was losing her patience quickly. “Are you actually an eating disorder nurse? Do you know anything?” She rolled her eyes. “Darling, can we do the other arm? I’m not comfortable doing it there.”

Freddie shifted the baby to his other arm and extended his left arm; Kash tourniqueted it and nodded. “That’s a lot better.”

“What’s the problem, miss?” Lauren asked. “We don’t want to hurt both arms.”

“Things don’t heal as well when you’re anorexic. If you’re doing daily blood tests, you have to take it from different areas so that the vein has time to heal. You’ll make it collapse if you do it too much in one.” She cleaned his left arm quickly. “Can you not tell from the bruising? You’ve injured the vein while you’ve been doing the tests.”

Freddie was glad that his complaints hadn’t been in vain. “I love the medical lesson, but can we get on with it?” He asked quietly. “Otherwise you’re going to get me panicking.”

‘Sorry.” Kash smiled. “You need to relax your muscles, though, otherwise we’re not going to get anywhere.”

He nodded apologetically and put all his attention into relaxing his body, focusing on the comforting feeling of the baby against his chest. He closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose as she warned him and slipped the needle in; he opened one eye in confusion. “That didn’t hurt as much.”

“What can I say? I’m good at my job.” She winked and set up the vial. “It’s because this vein isn’t injured, and hopefully won’t be. I have to be more careful with your arm than with I do with other patients, as these guys should be.”

“I think more doctors should bring a baby with them.” Freddie rested his forehead on top of the baby’s head. “She’s very calming.”

Kash laughed. “I’ll make sure I pass that on to the board.” She winked.

* * *

Jim couldn’t count how many times Freddie had called him while he was at work, and the little updates made him happy; even if he knew Freddie wasn’t having a good day, it felt good to know that he was being honest. This time, though, Freddie sounded delighted. Jim wasn’t even self-conscious that he was meant to be conducting, that he had an orchestra listening into his conversation.

“Jim!” Freddie said as soon as he picked up the phone. “Jim, guess what, guess what?”

“What, darling?” He chuckled and leaned up against the wall. “You sound happy.”

“So happy!” He replied. “I get an overnight!”

Jim was clearly delighted. “When? Tonight?”

“Yes!” He was practically jittering with excitement. “I hit eighty-seven and they want to see how I do at home. Like a trial for our agreements for my goals.”

“I’m so proud of you.” Jim smiled. “I’ll come and get you and we can pick up the kids together. They’ll go crazy, they’ll be so happy.”

“I need you to feed me up tonight. I want to be heavier when I go back tomorrow.” He said resolutely. The promise of having his home back, of getting regular days at home, was the best incentive to recover as soon as he could. 

Jim laughed. “When can I come and pick you up?”

“As soon as you can.” He smiled. “They need to do blood and blood pressure before I go, though, just to check that everything’s okay.”

“I’ve got fifteen minutes of this rehearsal left, darling, and then I’ll be there.” He promised. “I love you.”

“I love you too!” He said excitedly.

When Jim got there, he was thrilled to see Freddie looking so happy, and to see the difference in him. He didn’t look bloated like he had done before, and he looked more comfortable in his own skin, more relaxed. The clinic tried to limit their time together, one visit a week, and only an overnight every few weeks, but this felt like a victory to both of them.

Freddie wrapped his arms around his husband’s neck and kissed him eagerly as he came close. Jim smiled and kissed back, resting his hands lightly on Freddie’s waist, comforted by how much more on board he seemed to be with his treatment. “Four pounds in two weeks?” He said softly. “Look how well you’re doing.”

“It’s gotten so much better here.” Freddie said softly. “They got rid of the nurse I didn’t like. Kash came to see me and she saw the way she did my bloods and put in a standards complaint because she wasn’t doing it properly.” He smiled gleefully. “The new nurse is actually nice. She doesn’t force you to eat absolutely everything.”

“Sounds much better.” Jim kissed his forehead. “Come on then, darling, we’ve got children to pick up.” He wound an arm around his waist and walked him to the car. “I’m glad they’re being reasonable with your leave.”

“All I wanted was to spend some time with you. I really needed it.” He said shyly. “It’s easier sometimes to not be constantly fixated on where you are and why you’re there.”

“That’s understandable. I thought that we could take the kids to the park, seeing as it’s a nice spring day today and you’ve been inside for weeks.” Jim smiled. “Plus, it’s their Friday treat. That and biscuits.”

“Absolutely.” Freddie tapped his fingers on the seat as Jim started to drive. “Roger came to visit me yesterday. Brought Brian with him. I haven’t seen him in months.” He smiled. “It was really nice. I got to have lunch with them instead of in the kitchen with everyone.”

“This new nurse really is working wonders.” Jim smiled. “You seem much happier.”

“It’s different this time to the other times. I want to get better and I want to come home and people keep coming to visit me so I don’t feel lonely like I did before.” He smiled. “Because you come all the time, Kash drops by, the boys come and visit me, even Olga came to drop off some treats for me.”

“That’s so sweet of her. I told her where you were, I just told everyone else that you would be off sick for a few more weeks. I thought you wouldn’t mind her knowing.” He said gently.

“She calls herself my ballet mum.” Freddie laughed. “It’s good if she knows. She’s been like a mentor for the rest of my time at the Royal, so it makes sense.”

Jim chuckled and looked over at his husband, resting his hand lightly on Freddie’s thigh. “I’m so glad that you let yourself eat again.” He said softly. “I can’t wait for you to come home.”

Freddie stepped out the car when they got to the school and smiled. He glanced around and saw Oliver and Talulah in the corner of the playground, playing together with the water feature; when Talulah’s eyes landed on him, she squealed. “Daddy!”

Oliver went running first, heading straight for his father. “Daddy!” He called, slamming straight into his legs.

Freddie made a little winded noise as he was knocked over, but he laughed and pulled Oliver in close. “Hi Bear!” He said excitedly and squeezed him tightly. “I’m home tonight!”

“You’re home for my report!” He said happily and thrust a paper envelope into Freddie’s hand; it was a little damp around the edges from where he’d been playing. 

Freddie looked delighted that he was around for such an occasion in the children’s lives. “Shall we look at it together when we get home?” He asked the little boy. “I think we were going to go to the park, first.”

“Yes!” The children squealed together; Talulah was in Jim’s arms, being peppered with little kisses. “Can Daddy go on the swings with me?” She asked hopefully.

“I definitely think so.” Freddie smiled as Oliver stood up and he followed suit. He wanted to pick up the little boy, but he knew realistically that he was going to have to ration his energy for the sake of staying awake the whole weekend. 

When they got to the park, Talulah made a beeline for the swings, and Freddie laughed as he went after her. “Darling, why don’t we go in the big swing? Then you, me and Olly can all sit in one swing.”

“Yes!” Oliver grinned. “I want to come too, Daddy!”

“I want you to come too.” Freddie smiled as he sat in the big swing; Jim picked up the children and carefully laid them in bedside him.

“Everyone in tight?” Jim checked, delighting in the sight of his family all together. Freddie wrapped his arms around the children to keep them close and safe and smiled, dropping a quick kiss on Oliver’s forehead.

Talulah giggled as Jim started to push, hanging her little legs over the side of the swing and doing the movements that Jim had taught her to do. “Higher!” She squealed. “Higher, Pop!”

Jim pushed harder, pushed them up higher, relishing in Talulah’s delighted giggles. Talulah scooted closer to the edge, kicking her little legs in the air. Oliver laughed and buried his face in his father’s side, hanging on tight to him to stay in place. 

Freddie saw it before anyone else; Talulah moved closer to the bottom of the swing, sitting right on the edge, kicking her legs harder and harder, and Freddie felt when she slipped. He grabbed her as quickly as he could before she could hit the ground, hauling her back up, but overbalanced and fell himself.

“Fuck!” He spluttered; he’d landed directly on his back, the little girl safely on top of him. He coughed and sat up a little, looking down at her. “Lulah, darling, are you okay?”

She nodded with a shy smile. “Thank you for saving me, Daddy.” She said quietly.

Jim stopped the swing quickly and went over to them. “Shit, Freddie, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise that she was in danger.”

“It’s okay, darling.” He took Jim’s hand and stood up, brushing himself down. “No harm done.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jim checked, resting a hand on the small of his back. “That was one hell of a fall.”

“It’ll only be a few bruises.” He pecked Jim’s lips. “I’m fine, darling, honestly. I’ve done worse in shows.”

“Can we go on the slide, Daddy?” Oliver asked shyly as he hopped down from the swing. “And Pop too. The big wiggly one.”

Freddie smiled and squeezed Jim’s hand. “That sounds good to me.”

* * *

“I’m so tired.” Freddie yawned and turned into his husband’s chest. “I want cuddles.”

“You’re so tiny when you’re tired.” Jim hauled him into his lap and brought a blanket over both of them. “You just become so little.”

“I like it.” Freddie closed his eyes. “I have to get a week’s worth of cuddles into one evening.”

Jim chuckled and kissed his head. “Thank you for eating at dinner. It’s good for the kids to see.”

“I told you, I want to be heavier tomorrow. I want to see the number go up. I want them to see that I’m good for you.” He yawned again, resting his head by his bunched up hands. 

“You’re always good for me. You’re the best.” Jim smiled. “You’re always so willing to do what I suggest.”

“That’s because you make good suggestions.” Freddie smiled. “I want to be good for you.”

“You can be, darling.” Jim promised. “Just a few more weeks at the clinic, and you’ll be back with me, and then you can go back into ballet and we can get through this together. We can get your life back on track.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phoebe said that Freddie liked Parsi food and his mum's cooking so I totally went for that and also 'jigar' in Persian means sweetie which I think is adorable


	5. Rigid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim can't stay on their side any longer.

_ Time won't fly- it's like I'm paralysed by it; _

_ I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it. _

“Freddie, Freddie, I need to talk to Freddie, I need you to get him on the phone-” Jim sounded desperate, close to tears. “Please, I need him!”

“Sir, it’s half one in the morning, I’m afraid all our patients are asleep.” The receptionist replied. “If you’d like, you can leave a message and I can give it to Vincent Square when their day hours begin.”

“Can I come and see him?” Jim asked, fighting back tears. “It’s our son, I need him to help me, I don’t know what to do-” He let out a sob. “Please, I know it’s not the visiting hours, but we need him-”

The receptionist was taken aback by how upset he was. “Is it an emergency?”

“Yes!” He replied desperately. “Yes, it’s a fucking emergency!”

“Then you can come down and see him. You have to tell the night nurse that it’s an authorised visit by senior leadership.” She explained.

“Thank you.” He replied more quietly and quickly hung up the phone.

Freddie could never sleep through the sound of crying; no matter how tired he was, it was an inescapable wake up call. He yawned and sat up a little in his bed, the curious part of him wanting to see what was going on, whether he could help. He’d sat with some of the other patients in the middle of the night when they were upset, and he preferred that connection to any of the forced connections through therapy; he liked to help people.

He pulled on a long shirt, covering up a little, and then looked around quickly when his door burst open. Oliver was crying in Jim’s arms, crying hard, desperate and panicked sobs; Jim looked exhausted and panicked himself. “Freddie, please, I need your help-” Jim begged. “He got really upset in the middle of the night and he’s gone completely non-verbal and I can’t work out what the problem is and I don’t know what to do-” It was only then that Freddie realised Jim was crying, and Jim never cried. “You’ve always been better at this than me-”

Freddie sat back in the bed and carefully took his son; he laid back with his shoulders propped up and cuddled Oliver to his chest as if he were a baby. “Bear, darling, breathe for me.” He said softly. “It’s okay, sweetheart, Daddy’s here.” He soothed him, resting his cheek against his hair. “Deep breaths, darling, you can do it, copy Daddy.”

He took long, deep breaths, rubbing his back steadily. He carefully nudged a box of tissues down to Jim with a spare foot, sending him a little comforting smile as Oliver’s sobs started to become a little less panicked. “Oh, you’re doing so well for me, darling, you’re a little angel. You’re my special little boy, aren’t you?” He asked, smiling when Oliver finally looked up at him. “You’re so good, Bear, you’re my favourite little boy in the whole world.”

His sobs calmed to shaky breathing and his fists tightened in Freddie’s t-shirt. “Daddy.” He murmured quietly and Freddie beamed at him.

“There’s my little man.” Freddie wiped his arms and readjusted them so that Oliver was a little more upright. “If we make a bubble, can you tell me what made you upset?”

“Blanket bubble.” He murmured, still as tightly tucked against Freddie as he could possibly be. “Pop.”

“You want Pop in it too?” Freddie asked softly and Oliver nodded. He moved so that Jim could sit beside him and pulled the blanket up over their heads, making a little cocoon of safety around them, blocking out the rest of the world to make it easier for him to process. He’d only ever seen Oliver like this once before, and he suspected he’d gone into sensory overload after he’d gotten upset, and that had only exacerbated the problem.

“Well done for calming down, sweetheart.” Jim smoothed Oliver’s hair back. Freddie could see how shaken he was, how scared Oliver’s uncharacteristic behaviour had made him, how awful he was feeling; he rested his head on Jim’s shoulder to try and comfort him. “Thank you.”

“What upset you, sweetheart?” Freddie asked, carefully rubbing his back. “Can you tell me?”

“Bad dream.” He said quietly. “Daddy was here and he had lots of machines and I tried to cuddle him but he didn’t move.” Tears welled in his eyes again. “And he didn’t breathe and he didn’t open his eyes and the nurse said I wouldn’t ever get to see Daddy again.”

“Oh, darling.” Freddie hugged him tightly again, fiercely protective. “You don’t have to worry about me, sweetness. Daddy is just fine. Is it scary because I’m here?” He asked softly.

He nodded against Freddie’s chest. “I don’t want you to die, Daddy.” He said quietly. 

“I’m not going to, sweetheart.” He promised. “I’ll be here forever and ever, darling, I promise.” He grabbed the clipboard from the end of the bed and pulled the blanket back a little, showing his son a chart of his weight, showing a steady increase. “The higher this line gets, darling, the healthier I am and the more time I can spend at home.”

“It’s getting higher and higher.” Oliver traced the line with his finger. “You’re getting better?”

“I’m getting better.” Freddie nodded. “So you have to not worry about me.”

* * *

_ “No, please, I swear, I’m trying!” _

_ “Stop, stop, you’re hurting me!” _

_ “It hurts- I don’t know what I did wrong…” _

* * *

Jer ran her hands through his hair, sighing a little. It was hard to see him like this, the first time she’d ever been around to support him in one of these ruts; when he’d been in India, she’d been in Zanzibar; when he’d been in England, she’d been in India. She’d been a last chance resort when Freddie had gotten too upset, when calls to Jim and to Kash hadn’t been answered. Besides, Freddie didn’t want Jim there, not when he was looking like he did; he’d only panicked harder when they phoned Jim.

He was asleep now, having worn himself out crying. He hadn’t fallen asleep on his mother for the longest time, not since his days as a child, but the comforting smell of spice and shampoo had been enough to finally calm him into resting. He was upset, he was in pain, and even more than anything he was disappointed in himself.

“Is he okay?” Jim came into the room and stood nervously by the door. “I was at a show so I couldn’t take the calls but I came home to eight missed calls and I was terrified. What happened?”

Jer sat up; she’d laid down with him when she realised it was the only way to get him calm. “He’s alright now. He’s asleep.” She sighed. “I had no idea what I was doing. He’s always been so level around me, and he was- he was just panicking. He was crying and he was shaking and he was obviously in pain and it was awful.”

“What did they do to him?” Jim asked. “He was doing okay last time I spoke to him.”

“He doesn’t want you to know.” She said quietly. “It’s pretty obvious, but he didn’t want anyone to tell you. He didn’t want them to let you visit. He doesn’t want you seeing him.”

“Why?” Jim sounded wounded. “I’m his husband, he always wants me to come and visit.”

“Come closer.” She stood up and brushed herself off. “I won’t need to spell it out for you.”

He walked up to her and took in the sight of Freddie with a feeding tube down his nose. His expression faded into one of horror. “They didn’t- they fucking didn’t-”

“They did.” She rubbed her forehead wearily. “I’m going to head off because it’s coming to the end of my pass. Keep me updated.”

“Will do.” He replied quietly and sat in the chair beside his bed, taking his hand gently and kissing the knuckles. “Darling, I’m so sorry, they were only supposed to do this with yours or my consent. They were never supposed to do it without our consent.”

“I gave consent.” Kash stood by the doorway and crossed her arms. “He wasn’t going to get to a hundred for nearly two and a half months the way that he was going. It was going to crush him. He’ll get out of here quicker like this.”

“There was nothing he wanted less.” Jim looked up with a hard stare. “He begged me not to let them do it when he was getting too thin.”

“I know him. Something doesn’t go his way, and he gets disheartened. He can’t afford to give up with the kids at home. You’d be surprised what they can get to him if he has that in for two weeks.” She shrugged. “It’s in your best interests.”

“It’s fucking cruel!” Jim stood up, clearly enraged. “It’s force-feeding!”

“It’s dietary supplementation.” Kash looked weary. “Isn’t it more cruel to keep him in here for months while he struggles with the same few pounds over and over again?”

“It’s more cruel to do what he expressly begged us not to do.” Jim spat. “You’re not listening to him.”

“You forget that I have a medical degree, I’m a registered mental health specialist and I worked in these clinics for two years.” She sat on the desk in his room. “Think about if it was Talulah. If Talulah was wasting away, you’d do anything to bring her weight back up, wouldn’t you? You’d sign those papers in a heartbeat.”

“She’s a child!” Jim insisted. “She can’t make her own decisions!”

“Neither can Freddie.” Kash said coolly. “It’s time you started treating him more like a child.”

“That’s complete shit.” Jim shook his head. “He was getting better!”

“He’s already plateaued. His body is so used to starving that it can’t fit in more than a thousand calories without throwing up. It’s a psychological habit that he’s trained so much that it appears natural. A tube is just going to help bolster him while he’s recovering and can’t eat that much.” She explained, though her tone was high and patronising. “Don’t you want him home?”

“Don’t do this to me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his tired eyes. “I can’t choose between his wishes and mine. It’s his body, it has to be his. I can’t control him.”

“Can’t you see? He’s crying out for someone to control what he eats and what he does for a little while.” She looked exasperated. “He needs to-”

Freddie hauled himself up in the bed, clearly exhausted, and shot her a hard look. “Get out.” He spat.

“Freddie-” She softened her voice instinctively. “Darling, I was going to tell you-”

“Don’t fucking darling me.” He said, voice low with venom. “Both of you, get out. I can’t fucking sleep with you both chirping on in my ears about decisions that should be mine.” He caught Jim’s eye and felt momentarily bad; he was still in his performance blacks, clearly incredibly stressed. “You can come back when you’ve calmed down.”

Kash frowned. “How do I know you’re not just going to pull it out as soon as we leave?”

“Because it’s not my first time with one, and I’m not naive enough to think that’ll sort everything.” He lay back on the pillows. “Just fuck off, Kash. I don’t want to see you.”

Jim leaned over and lightly kissed his cheek. “I’ll make us some tea.”

“Thanks, darling.” Freddie pulled the blanket up high. “Get rid of her on your way out.”

Freddie stood up when Jim left, glancing quickly at the half-open door. He knew that if he walked out to go to the bathroom, he’d be followed immediately by a nurse; it was the most dreaded part of being on constant observation. He also knew, however, that the room over from him was directly connected to the men’s bathroom, and he’d made friends with the occupant in case of situations like these.

He walked through the door into the next room, shooting his friend a wink before slipping into the bathroom unnoticed. The first rule of these wards was to never make friends that would encourage unhealthy habits, and it was the one that Freddie scorned the most. He locked the cubicle door behind him and quietly removed the tape, trying not to draw any attention to himself: he knew that as soon as he started pulling, he’d start gagging, and then all the focus in the ward would suddenly be on him.

He considered himself good at double bluffing.

He pulled and pulled, starting slowly and getting faster, heaving at the constant pressure on his gag reflex; he had to take a break to cough and splutter, and cursed quietly when someone else came in. 

“I know what you’re doing, Freddie.” Jim’s voice was quiet. Freddie heard as he turned on two of the showers and turned on the taps, masking any sounds. “You’ve got about two minutes before they realise what you’re doing.”

“What are you-” He started but Jim cut him off.

“You have to get it done quickly.” He repeated himself. “I’ll tell you if anyone’s coming.”

Freddie started to pull again, tugging when it got stuck, forcing himself to calm down and relax his throat to get the last piece up and out his nose. He managed to get it out, but not before he’d also lost half the contents of his stomach. He rested his head against the wall, breathing heavily; he only realised he was crying when the adrenaline wore off.

“Hey, darling, let me in.” Jim said softly, resting a hand on the cubicle door. “Sweetheart, please.”

Freddie fumbled with the lock and looked up at Jim; his eyes were teary and his nose was wet with blood where he’d pulled too quickly. Jim dropped to his knees and hugged him closely, Freddie straddling his lap and tucking his face away into Jim’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Freddie.” He said softly. “They shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“I just want to go home.” Freddie whispered. “I hate it, I hate it so much, I just want to go home-”

“Freddie?” One of the nurses came into the bathroom. “Shit, Freddie, you can’t do that!”

Jim had to be on Freddie’s side; he couldn’t take the side of nurses that were hurting his husband. “We’re going home.” He looked up at the nurse and rested his hand on the back of Freddie’s head, just cradling him lightly. “I don’t want him here anymore.”

“Sir, he’s incredibly unwell, you can’t-”

“We can do whatever we want to. He’s not sectioned.” He picked up Freddie and stood up, holding him closely. “We’re leaving. You can schedule us back into outpatients.”

“We can section him.” The nurse stood in his way. “He’s eighty-seven pounds. He’ll just collapse.”

“You can’t section him.” Jim had been asking, checking, researching what they were saying. “You don’t have proof that he’s getting worse, because he’s not.”

“As soon as he starts to lose again, we’ll section him.” Jim pushed past him at that, at the end of his tether, his temper bubbling over.

“You know what?” He spat. “You go ahead and do that. Clearly you don’t have any faith in his ability to recover.” He kissed Freddie’s head and sat him down on the bed. “Get changed, darling, we’re leaving.”

Freddie’s expression lit up and he grabbed his jeans and a sweater, not even caring that he was changing in front of people anymore, and stuffed everything back into his bag; he’d never unpacked completely, never expecting to stay for long. 

* * *

Freddie sat cross-legged on the floor of the lounge, watching lightning exploding across the London skyline through the large windows. He was wrapped up in Jim’s dressing gown, a mug of tea by his feet and another mug in his hand; his adrenaline levels were finally coming down now that he was at home, the constant anxiety making him shake beginning to level out.

Jim yawned as he walked into the lounge, both children looking frightened as they followed him. “Freddie?” He smiled; they’d gone to bed just over two hours ago, but he’d almost forgotten that he had Freddie at home. Signing the immediate discharge papers had almost felt like a dream. “What are you doing?”

Talulah went straight for Freddie, curling up in his lap, frightened by the storm. “I got hungry.” He said softly. “So I went for cereal in a mug, obviously.”

Jim chuckled; Freddie hated regiment, and that had been one of his problems with the hospital. He didn’t want to eat at certain times, snack at certain times, and feel restricted by them. The only meal he’d ever been strict about was eating dinner together with the children. 

The lightning struck again and Talulah whimpered; Freddie smiled and pulled her in closer. “Hey, darling, it’s okay, it won’t hurt you.” He soothed. “If you look at it, Lulah, it turns the whole sky purple. It’s very pretty.”

Jim sat beside him and rested his head on Freddie’s shoulder; for once, he was the one needing familiarity and closeness. He felt so vulnerable, and so guilty, in doubt about his parenting and his benefits to Freddie as a husband; to be physically close to him made him calm a little. Freddie pressed a kiss to his head and watched Oliver’s little face be illuminated by the lightning. “It is pretty.” He admitted, though he sounded a little begrudging. “Look, Lulah. It’s pretty.”

She glanced up, still securely hidden in Freddie’s chest, and looked almost a little awed as she watched the lightning. “How long are you here for, Daddy?” She asked softly.

“Forever, little one.” Freddie smiled and kissed her forehead. “I’m not going back to that silly hospital anymore.”

“Forever?” She asked hopefully. “Are you better now, Daddy?”

“I’m getting better.” Freddie nodded. “But I can get better at home, now. The doctors think that it’ll be good for me to spend time with all of you so that I can focus on getting better.”

“Can I help you get better?” Oliver asked. “What can I do, Daddy?”

“That’s not your responsibility, darling, it’s mine.” Freddie leaned over and kissed Oliver’s forehead. “All I need you to do is give me lots and lots of cuddles like you always do. I just want you to be yourself.”

“How does that help?” Oliver questioned curiously. “Cuddles don’t make colds better.”

Freddie smiled. “But cuddles make you feel happier, don’t they? So they make you happy even if you are poorly, which makes you feel better.” He explained. “My illness is in my brain instead of my body, and so I’ll get better when I feel better.”

Oliver nodded as if his words were pure gold. “I love you, Daddy.” He said softly, leaning up to peck his cheek lightly.

* * *

Jim sat by the side of the bed, slumped over with his head in his hands. He was so exhausted, and so stressed, and he was going to worry himself to death about Freddie and the children at this rate; everything was piling on top of him. He still had a score to write for a whole new ballet, a whole set of rehearsals to rearrange, Oliver’s art project to help with, and Talulah’s maths homework, the bathrooms hadn’t been cleaned for three weeks, the laundry was piling up and the fridge was growing emptier and emptier. On top of everything, he had to drop everything to help Freddie, and every missed meeting or rehearsal was putting him behind in the season’s calendar. 

“Darling?” Freddie came into the room with two mugs of tea and sat beside him. “Jim, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just-” He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes fiercely. “I’m just stressed, is all.”

“What about?” Freddie wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed his cheek. Jim let himself lean his weight against him, to feel finally supported by having another person there, on his side, to take a portion of the weight on his shoulders.

“Everything.” He said quietly. “Work and the house and the kids and you.”

“Why me?” Freddie asked softly. “I’m here now, darling, I can help you out and you can keep an eye on me. I’m going to be awfully bored just kicking around the house, it’ll be sparkling in no time.”

“It’s not that.” He sighed. “There’s this voice in my head that keeps telling me I’m going to kill you if I let you stay at home. It says that I’m too self-absorbed to help you because all I think about is myself and how much I need you here. I’m shit on my own, Freddie, I’m not a good dad to them, but I don’t want to kill you because I can’t handle my own responsibilities.”

“Why would you kill me?” Freddie said quietly. 

“You’re so fucking thin.” Jim ducked his head down and clasped his hands behind his neck. “The doctor, she told me that I had to- I had to look for funeral plans, just in case, and I can’t, Freddie, I can’t bury my twenty-eight year old husband at the age of thirty-two. I can’t be a single dad to two when I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.”

“You do, darling.” Freddie soothed. “You’re so good with them. Talulah just adores you, and you’re Oliver’s rock.”

“He cried for nearly two hours before I took him to see you. He wouldn’t talk to me, and every time I spoke I just made him cry harder. It took you less than ten minutes to calm him down.” Jim’s voice was growing thicker. “I didn’t know what to do- he would’ve cried himself unconscious if I didn’t have you, Freddie, what am I supposed to do if I don’t have you anymore?”

Freddie wasn’t blind to how upset Jim was about his hospitalisation. “I’m not going to die, my love.” He said gently. “If I were going to die, I’d be dead by now. I’ve got more fight in me yet.” He kissed his head and rubbed his back as Jim let out a sob. “And Jim-” He swallowed. “Even if I do, even if the worst possible thing happens, you’ll be okay.”

“I won’t be okay.” He sobbed. “I can’t watch you die, Freddie, I can’t cope- I could barely cope when we split up, and that was only because I was clinging onto the hope that it would all be a bad dream and everything wouldn’t be what it seemed.”

“You did a hell of a lot better than I did.” Freddie knelt next to him and wrapped him up in a hug. “But I promise, darling, I swear down that I’m going to get better. I want to spend the next sixty-two years of our life together, and we’ve only ticked off eight so far.” He rested his chin on top of Jim’s head; it always comforted him when he was upset in the opposite situation. “I’ll be okay, and you’ll be okay, and the children will be okay. You’re not on your own anymore.”

“I can’t keep being on my own.” Jim said quietly. “I need you. I need you to help me with homework and to remind me to get things for dinner so we don’t have to order food three nights in a row and I need you to sew up Oliver’s blanket because I’m not neat enough and it’ll upset him and I need someone to wake up next to so I don’t feel so fucking lonely all the time.”

“And you have me.” Freddie rested his forehead against Jim’s and carefully wiped his eyes. “And I don’t promise to remember my times tables and I don’t promise to have the energy that I used to have and I don’t promise that every day will be good and I don’t promise I’ll finish all my meals, but know, darling, that I’ll give it a fucking good go.” 

* * *

“They’ve scheduled this appointment so quickly because they’re trying to catch me out.” Freddie muttered bitterly. “If they can catch me on weight fluctuation, they fucking will.”

“But remember, that’s why you’ve been eating so well this week.” Jim squeezed his hand. “You’ll be okay, darling.”

He wasn’t confident in what he was saying; Freddie didn’t look different to how he did when he came out of the hospital, but saying it out loud made it into a reluctant form of hope. 

“Hop on.” Elouise smiled and grabbed her clipboard. “I’m sure you’ve done just fine, darling. We all know how much you want to stay at home.”

“You’re the only nice member of staff in this whole damn facility.” Freddie smiled reluctantly. “What’s it reading at?”

“Eighty-eight.” She said happily. “That’s good, steady progress, Freddie, well done.”

“Eighty-eight?” Jim echoed, a little dumbfounded. “So that means-”

“He’s put on weight, Mr. Hutton.” Elouise said sweetly. “He left the facility at eighty-seven, so in the few days he’s been at home, he’s put on more than he usually would in a few days with us.”

Jim broke out into a beaming smile and stood up, hugging Freddie tightly. “Thank you, darling.” He said quietly. “Oh, Freddie, thank you so much, I’m so proud of you.”

“For now, I’m happy to recommend he stays at home, so long as the weight stays steady or goes up. Sometimes, patients respond better in their home environment, and I think Freddie is one of those.” She explained.

Freddie leaned up and pressed a kiss to his stubbled cheek; he desperately needed a shave. “You can’t get rid of me now.” He said playfully.

“As if I’d ever want to.” Jim cupped his cheek and kissed him properly. “Freddie Hutton, I love you madly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey kids - leave a comment about what you're thinking of this new au (obvs we all love soft boys, but I hope you're enjoying this too!) and whether you like the slightly more balanced focus on Jim and Freddie!
> 
> Also England people what did you think of the literal apocalypse last night


	6. Fouettes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Readjusting, recalibrating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like all the fluff!

_ When it comes on top, _

_ You’ve got to make it happen! _

Freddie liked to feel useful; he liked to have a full schedule, to be on top of a long list of to-dos, never having too much time to slow down and take to himself. That morning alone, he’d scrubbed the kitchen until it sparkled, done all the dishes and put them all away, cleaned off all the shelves that were getting a little grimy, swept the floor of the lounge and put the children’s toys away, and cleaned their makeshift balcony out in the garden. Since then, he’d been and picked the children up from school - Fridays occasionally meant half-days - and he now had them both at the dining table, trawling through the weekend’s homework. He sat with them, blitzing through the pile of things to mend that Jim had put at the bottom of the wardrobe; the first thing, though, was Oliver’s blanket.

Oliver had surreptitiously moved his chair as close to Freddie as he could get, finding the warmth of his father close-by to be comforting. “Daddy?” He asked quietly. “Daddy, can you help me draw a kitty?”

Freddie put down the pair of trousers he was working on and leaned over to look at what he was doing. “Of course I can, darling.” He smiled. “Do you want me to sketch it, and you can draw over the top of it, or do you want me to tell you how to draw it yourself?”

Oliver handed over his pencil and smiled. “Daddy sketch it.” He said softly. When he was with Jim, he tended to act more his age, but with Freddie, he tended to regress a little; he liked to prove to Jim that he was big, mimicking him, but he also followed Freddie’s behaviour of acting younger than he was.

Freddie took his paper and lightly sketched out a cat, smiling at how reminiscent it was of their first day together; Oliver crawled into his lap to watch him. “Thank you.” He said with a sweet smile, kissing Freddie’s cheek.

“You’re very welcome.” Freddie chuckled as Oliver ran off to get his colouring pencils. 

“Daddy, I’m hungry.” Talulah pouted at him playfully and then giggled. “Can I have a sandwich?”

“Of course you can, darling.” Freddie stood up and went over to the cupboard. “Olly, do you want one?”

“Yes please.” He smiled as he hopped back on his chair. Freddie made the conscious decision to make himself one too; his hunger cues weren’t always reliable, and it had been a few hours since his lunch. He gave both of the children theirs and then sat down with his own, smiling when Talulah got jam all over her cheeks.

“You’re all sticky.” Freddie laughed and leaned over, cleaning her face with a tissue. “Was that nice?”

She nodded eagerly and ran up to the sink. Freddie followed her and lifted her up to help her wash her hands; she splashed him in shock when the front door burst open.

“Freddie?” Jim called out. “Freddie, shit, the kids had a half-day and I completely forgot and I didn’t take the car keys and I’m going to be so fucking late-”

“Hey-” Freddie put Talulah down and walked out into the hallway. “Darling, breathe. You put it in the calendar, I went and got them at midday. They’re in the kitchen.” He said gently. 

“I’m so sorry.” Jim rubbed his face quickly. “I shouldn’t have left you to pick up the pieces after me.”

“It’s okay.” Freddie promised. “They’re my children too, darling. I’m the one at home, so it’s more my responsibility than it is yours.”

Jim hugged him then and kissed him lightly. “I’m so glad you’re home, Freddie.” He said shyly. “I’m so glad you’re here to help me.” He paused for a second as he took comfort in being close to him. “Are they okay?”

“Talulah’s doing some maths and Olly’s finishing his art homework.” Freddie smiled. “They’re fine, darling.”

“Pop!” Talulah called, and Oliver ran to him, both hugging him tightly. Jim laughed and crouched down to hug them properly, kissing each little forehead in turn. 

“Hi, little ones.” He laughed. “Have you been being good for Daddy?”

“Yes!” Talulah giggled. “I got jam all over my face and Daddy cleaned it for me.”

Freddie chuckled at the way she recounted the story and finished off the last of his sandwich before he put the plates by the sink. “That was nice of him, wasn’t it?” Jim joked. “How about you, Bear? Have you been a good boy?”

He nodded eagerly and kissed Jim’s cheek. “Daddy helped me draw a kitty.”

“See?” Jim smiled. “I told you that he could help you with that.”

He stood up then and went over to Freddie, kissing his temple. “I didn’t ask you, Daddy. How are you? Have you been good?”

Freddie laughed and snuggled into his side when Jim wrapped an arm around his waist. “Very good.” He promised, filling up the sink to clean up the dishes. “I’ve been keeping myself busy.”

“I can see that.” Jim smiled. “What have you eaten today?”

“I wrote it down.” He grabbed a little notebook and passed it to him. “I- I find it really hard to lie to you, and so I thought that if I wrote it down, I had to eat it. I’m kind of emotionally blackmailing myself.”

Jim chuckled and took the book, reading what he’d written and smiling. “That’s really good, darling, well done.”

“Lunch was hard.” He admitted. “I’m kind of glad that no one was home. I’m following the diet plan from the Royal, but I’m- I’m afraid of some of the foods on there. I’m scared they’re going to blow me right up because I’ll lose control.”

  
  
“Why would you lose control?” He asked sympathetically.

“Because I really like eating them.” He dropped his voice so the children wouldn’t hear him. “They just make me anxious. I’m weird, because I love preparing food and I love the way it tastes and I do enjoy eating but I’m scared I’ll lose control because I love it so much and I’ll gorge myself.”

“I want you to enjoy yourself.” He cupped his cheek and kissed him gently. “Even if you did eat a little too much one day, that’s going to help you get healthier more quickly.”

“You make a good point.” He closed his eyes as Jim traced his cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “You’re so gentle.”

“You’re like porcelain. I don’t want to snap you.” He chuckled. “I can’t wait for you to get better.”

  
  
“Me neither, darling.” Freddie smiled.

* * *

When Freddie hits eighty-nine, Jim brings home a new kitten. It’s a tiny thing, barely a few grams, needing careful hand-feeding and lots of time devoted to it. It’s black, fluffy like Peaches, and the older cat takes a like to it immediately. Freddie’s nurturing side kicks into overdrive, and he channels all of his energy into feeding the new kitten everything few hours. He times his meals to the cat’s feeding times. Oliver goes crazy with excitement, and Talulah giggles when it pounces on her finger for the first time.

* * *

“Why are you here?” Kash asked, sounding surprised. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital!”

“I’m picking up my children.” Freddie replied simply, tapping his fingers against the wall behind him. 

“I pick up the children on a Thursday so that he’s got more time at work.” She crossed her arms. “Listen, Fred, does he know you’re out? Because if this is some surprise, you’ll just hurt him more, he just wants you to get better quickly and you’re not going to do that if-”

Freddie took his sunglasses off, but not before he’d rolled his eyes. “He signed the discharge papers. He wanted me out of there after they shoved that tube down my nose and I had to pull so hard that it made me bleed to get it out again.”

“That was going to help you.” Kash sighed. “Honestly, Freddie, I’ll give you a lift back, you just need to-”

“I’m not a statistic.” He looked over at her. “I’m not some experiment for you to try out your favourite techniques on. I know that it’s hard that I don’t want help like that, but you have to let me heal in my way. If you force-feed me, I put too much weight on too quickly, I panic, I starve myself until it’s gone. You’re not thinking of the psychological side of it.”

She stayed quiet for a moment and then nodded. “I didn’t really think about that.” She admitted. “I guess- I guess I’m used to quick fixes. I wanted to help you get out of the hospital.”

“And I’ll just end up back there if I’m force-fed.” He told her. “I appreciate the fact that you care, but you didn’t do it the right way.”

“I didn’t.” She admitted. “Are you- are you okay, though? How are you doing?”

“I think I’m on track to hit ninety in a few days. The gains are slowing down now, but I was never going to keep the two pounds a week gains up. They want half a pound to a pound a week when I steady out.” Freddie sat up on the wall and watched as the children started to come out. “So I’ve gained two since I left.”

“That’s really good.” She said quietly. “Has Jim been okay?”

“He’s definitely stressed. He actually cried on me the other night, because everything got on top of him. It’s- it’s weirdly comforting on my behalf. Like, I knew that he loved me, because he definitely told me enough, but now I realise that I’m useful. I played my part so much that I didn’t realise that he needed me to do it, because it was just a routine that we’d built together.” Freddie’s smile turned a little dreamy. “It’s been really good for both of us.”

* * *

When Freddie hits ninety pounds, he has sex with Jim for the first time in months. Jim’s second-guessing, scared that he’ll trigger memories in Freddie, but Freddie relaxes under the arms of his husband, the one man he trusts more than anything. They collapse in a heap of love, sweaty and a little messy, cuddling and kissing and eventually Freddie loses his ability to do much more than nose at Jim’s neck as the steady rhythm has his back arching as he rediscovers intimacy. Afterwards, Jim washes him in cool water as he rests against him, and he smiles at how well he knows him when he doesn’t wake up crying.

* * *

Jim gasped awake, those same images flashing across his mind, those ones that had haunted him for the months since Freddie came back; his sleep was rarely restful, instead occupied by nightmares of hospital beds and machines and wires and blood. Sometimes it was a bottle of pills washed down by vodka, sometimes it was the glint of the razor blade he used to prepare coke, and sometimes it was with someone else’s hand around his throat, a dangerous game gone too far. That night, though, it hit a little too close to home.

_ “There was nothing we could do.” The nurse said quietly. “You didn’t answer the calls, so I’m afraid- I’m afraid he left us on his own. He didn’t let anyone know he was in difficulties until it was too late.” _

_ “What happened?” Jim’s voice was completely shattered as his life came crumbling down before his eyes. “He was okay this morning.” _

_ “He’s had heart troubles for a little while. Some arrhythmia, some palpitations. It seems like he had a bad attack today, but he didn’t notify anyone until it was dinner time and we came looking for him. He wasn’t on one-to-one because he’s been doing so well recently.” _

_ “And so he just-” Jim’s hand was on the door handle, but he wasn’t ready to open it and face the reality. _

_ “His heart was too weak. He went into cardiac arrest, and that- it was too much for his poor body.” _

_ “So he’s gone?” The ringing in his ears was getting louder as the world fade out. “He’s-” _

_ “He’s passed away, Jim. I’m so sorry.” _

He sat up and watched Freddie intently, his shaking only lessening when he saw the steady rise and fall of Freddie’s chest, saw the way he wrinkled his nose when the blankets tickled him, the way his eyes opened a little when Jim made to get out of bed. 

“Where are you going?” He grumbled, grabbing for him. “Come back, it’s cold.”

“Oh, Freddie-” He breathed out, stuck between wanting to squeeze him tight just to feel him close, and a permanent fear of snapping him in half. “Freddie, I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Freddie yawned and tugged on his arm sleepily. “Come back. Cuddles.”

Jim lay down and pulled him close, finally relaxing when Freddie made a little noise of content and snuggled up against him. “You know you can always tell me if something’s wrong, or if you’re not feeling right, or if you’re getting sick, don’t you, darling?” Jim asked quietly. “I’m not going to put you back in the hospital.”

Freddie opened one eye and looked up at him. “What’s this about?” He asked quietly. “You’re not right.”

“Just a bad dream.” He carded his fingers through Freddie’s hair. “Your hair’s getting thicker again.” He said quietly, more as a comfort to himself than anything else. 

“That’s because I’m eating properly.” He smiled. “And I’m not pulling it out anymore. I wasn’t helping myself.”

“It’s because you’re getting better.” Jim told himself, feeling the softness of it between his fingers. “Because you’re okay.”

“Exactly.” Freddie smiled up at him and then closed his eyes. “I’m sleepy.”   
  


“Go to sleep, sweetness.” Jim murmured as he rearranged his pillow. “Thank you for checking on me.”

“We all need love.” Freddie said softly. “It’s not just me.”

* * *

When Freddie hits ninety-one pounds, he makes cupcakes with the children and eats one with them, resisting the urge to take the frosting off the top. When Jim has one with his tea in the evening, Freddie has another even though his heart’s pounding in his chest and he’s getting worried about eating too much; he tries to focus on how tasty the vanilla is, and thinks of Talulah’s excited face when he agreed to mix sprinkles into the batter. The cake tastes much better because he knows it’s made with love and he licks the crumbs from his fingers.

* * *

Freddie stepped out into the early evening sunshine, feeling it warm every part of his body. He walked leisurely down the stairs, walking on his toes amongst the tufts of grass coming between the slabs of stones, and laughed when a butterfly brushed against his leg, the soft wings feeling good against his smooth skin. There was no aim to the walk, just appreciating the fresh air after being in the house all day; aside from collecting the children from school or running down to the laundrette, he had no reason to leave the house.

The whole world was treating him like fine, blown glass, stained purple and blue where the light caught the hollows of his body; it touched him with kid gloves, scared to scratch the surface or chip a corner. The boys wouldn’t arrange any meetings for Queen, not wanting to pressure him into being ready to get back into writing and jamming and practising and performing - even with a thousand assurances that he’d tell them if he wasn’t up to it, they didn’t trust him.

He didn’t mention the hours a day he’d spend behind the piano when he was at home on his own; Jim didn’t notice if Freddie slipped a half-written score into his pile of things to work on. Freddie couldn’t write for violin, but he let Jim think that all the piano scores he found tucked between minutes of meetings were written by him in a fit of inspiration, just needing layering for the sake of the orchestra. It cut his writing time in half, and he thanked his past self for being so organised.

Freddie liked to see how he looked less stressed when he came home and told Freddie he was further through a project than he thought he was.

He also wrote for himself, for Queen or just for fun, just something to help wake up his brain and his fingers and to distract him from how strange it felt to be home alone and purposeless, or else from fixating on the feeling of food in his stomach. He’d found the idea of furthering his husband’s career or his best friends’ ambitions to be a good distraction from the desperate urge to purge his breakfast, the hardest meal of every day.

Sometimes, Jim would even leave him with scores during the day, asking him to check their feasibility for performance; Freddie would pore over them for hours, making alterations or suggestions in a purple pen from his desk drawer, pointing out problems with the rhythm or just the sections that wouldn’t be popular with the corps.

He stretched one arm over his head and curled his toes in the grass, lazy and languid and lethargic from sunshine and a full stomach. He rocked his head a little, side to side, to the beat of the music in his mind, stretching out the muscles that grew tense when he was hunched over for hours at a time. He stood on one foot, overbalancing just a little, and then raised himself onto the ball of his foot, feeling the familiar ache through his underused ankles and the protest of the exertion.

“You look peaceful.” Jim dried his hands on a cloth and left it on the balustrade as he walked down the stairs. “And beautiful, I must say.”

Freddie’s cheeks turned pink immediately; Jim held back from complimenting him as he usually would, not wanting him to interpret it as a desire for Freddie to stay thin. As soon as he said anything sweet, Freddie became a child craving attention and validation again; it warmed his whole body, mind and soul. Even like this, even in the depths of an awful psychiatric illness, his husband still thought he was beautiful.

Neither of them was blind to the gradual change in Freddie’s figure; his face had filled out a little and his hips didn’t stick out so much when they laid together in bed. Jim had caught him looking at himself in the mirror that morning, but it had been far more positive than it usually was. Freddie, instead of trying to hide, to angle himself right, and instead of pinching at non-existent muscle and fat, had just been looking- looking normally, and then he’d smiled.

“Thank you.” He said shyly, ducking his head down and smiling. “I was just getting some fresh air.”

“Everything okay?” Jim asked, wrapping an arm around his waist as he came closer. “Want some company?”

“That would be lovely.” Freddie leaned up and kissed his cheek before they started to walk together. “I’ve just been in the house all day. I’m starting to go a little stir crazy.” He joked.

“Have you been doing my work for me while you’ve been at home?” Jim asked with a playful smile on his face. “Because these scores are turning up with alarming regularity, and I definitely don’t write in blue.”

“Maybe.” Freddie smiled shyly. “You were stressed and I thought I could help.”

“You’re an angel.” Jim kissed him lightly. “Darling, you deserve credit for doing the hardest bit. I’ll put you down as a composer.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Freddie shook his head. “It’s your work. You’re the one that makes it for the whole orchestra.”

“They’ve absolutely loved these new songs.” He smiled. “They’re a proper hit. I can’t wait to see them on the stage next season, darling, especially if you’re dancing to them. A true virtuoso.”

“You flatter me.” Freddie said with a little giggle. “It’s teamwork. It’s what we do best.”

“That’s very true.” Jim laughed at the sound of his happiness. “It’s what we’ve always done best, for the last decade. You’re like my left arm at this point, and the right side of my brain.”

“Does that make you my right arm?” Freddie smiled playfully. “You’re definitely the left side of the brain.”

“Two halves of a complete whole.” Jim pecked his head again; he couldn’t resist pressing kisses to him all the time when he was close-by. 

* * *

Freddie goes back down to ninety after that, because he’s started training again in those little pink pointe shoes and the tan split-soles that were specially made for him when somebody pointed out that ballet shoes were supposed to be invisible and that Freddie’s stuck out too obviously against his skin tone. He swears in the back of his mind that he’ll replenish his supply of baby blue and scarlet red shoes. He doesn’t tell Jim straight away, but Jim can see that he’s stopped going crazy with boredom, that he’s got more of an appetite and more energy, and figures he’s either pregnant or he’s dancing again. Because the former is nigh-on impossible (unless there’s something about Freddie that he’s got very wrong), he thinks he’s probably back in class.

* * *

“Jim, darling?” Olga stood in the doorway of his studio. “My pianist has just taken his lunch break in the middle of my class. I don’t suppose you could fill in the blanks for the last fifteen minutes, could you?”

“Can’t Dan do it?” He asked distractedly, chewing on the end of his pencil. “I need to get this done.”

“Fifteen minutes, Jim, I swear. I’ll get you out of something else.” She asked hopefully. “You’re my last chance, otherwise I’ll have to abandon the class.”

Jim put his pencil down and stood up. “Is it just the coda?”

“A coda would be great.” She smiled and led him down the corridor to the rehearsal room. Jim went straight to the piano, cracking his knuckles before settling down into playing. He didn’t look up, not having much interest in watching the back end of a technical class; the warm-up classes were far more fun to play. To him, everything they did looked the same: he still wouldn’t understand the technicalities in the same way that Freddie did, the reason that they’d repeat the same thing ten times if anyone in the room made a mistake.

“Okay, let’s do fouettés.” Olga stood against the barre and watched closely, eyes scanning over her class of five for that early afternoon. “Remember, hips stacked and chest up. Think of the barre work we’ve just done.” She turned to Jim and nodded. “Thank you, Jim. Let’s go, I want to see who can do the most. You can choose pointe or demi.” She clapped her hands for them to start. “Freddie, you go up en pointe.”

Jim’s head snapped up when he realised Freddie was in the room; he could see his breathing grow heavier as he worked himself hard, and he smiled when he saw a glimpse of Freddie’s grin in the midst of his turn. This was where he belonged, more than anything else, and it was good to see him being able to move properly, having fuelled himself properly.

“Left side!” She called as she watched him. “Get your core round, don’t let it lag!” She crossed her arms and laughed. “Left side round!”

Jim played until they finished, watching as the other dancers dropped away and it was left to Freddie to try and hit as many as he could. It felt good to relax behind the piano again; so often he was playing mindlessly, worrying at the same time, and it felt good to be able to watch Freddie and feel confident.

“Are your toes killing you?” She laughed as she walked over to him. “Do you know how many you did?”

“Lost count.” Freddie laughed breathlessly and leaned over. “Fuck, they kill. Probably like thirty?”

“Forty-three en pointe.” She smiled. “And another fourteen when you went down onto demi.”

“No wonder I’m fucking starving.” Freddie smiled and grabbed his water bottle.

“Maybe I can help with that.” Jim stood up and walked over to them. “Good job, darling.”

  
  
Freddie’s smile turned a little shyer, a little sweeter. “What do you propose?”

“Let’s go out for lunch.” Jim smiled. “We haven’t had a lunchtime date in forever.”

“I’d like that.” Freddie took his hand when Jim offered it and tottered precariously in his pointe shoes; he wasn’t used to walking in them all of a sudden. “Let me change my shoes first!”


	7. Snuggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He really is trying.

_ I'd be appalled if I saw you ever try to be a saint, _

_ I wouldn't fall for someone I thought couldn't misbehave- _

_ But I want you to know that I've had no love like your love. _

It was the last thing Jim wanted to come home to. He’d forgotten his folder of scores, and so he’d had to come home to pick them up before the day’s rehearsals began; he knew that Freddie was at home, but he hadn’t been expecting what he saw.

Freddie had shut himself away in the bathroom, feeling too nauseous to even stand; he was just managing to keep down his breakfast from that morning. Freddie hated breakfast, the meal that he was never hungry for, the meal he could push around his plate for an hour before he managed to finish, the meal he always seemed to feel sick after. He’d been doing so well, and he didn’t want to have to try to force down something else after he’d brought up his first attempt.

“Freddie?” Jim knocked lightly on the door. “Freddie, are you okay?” He worried his lip between his teeth, hand hovering on the door handle. Freddie had been so upbeat, so positive the last few weeks, no suggestion that he was struggling during the day when no one else was home; Jim was left wondering how genuine that façade was.

“Shit.” He heard Freddie mutter. He coughed violently as his stomach turned and shakily drank some water from the tap, swallowing as hard as he could before he stood up. “I’m fine, darling, I’m fine.” He called out. He washed his face in cold water, trying to freshen himself up, and then opened the door. 

“Are you fine?” Jim questioned, carefully hugging him. “I don’t want you to pretend, Freddie.”

Freddie rested his head against Jim’s shoulder, exhausted. “I just feel sick.” He murmured. “I hate breakfast.”

“Do you feel sick a lot?” He asked gently. 

“It’s the worst part of recovering.” Freddie said tiredly. “It’s like my body just doesn’t want to work. I- I spend quite a lot of time in the bathroom when no one’s home.”

“Why don’t you feel sick in the evenings when we’re home?” Jim kept his voice so soft, trying not to make it seem like an interrogation, trying not to scare him. It felt as though he had that nineteen-year-old in his arms again, broken and starving, but Jim embraced his caring role as he did back then. To care was to be in control, to know what was happening, to not feel so helpless and overwhelmed by his own life anymore.

“I have more of an appetite in the evenings. The hospital doesn’t want me to move much during the day to limit what I burn, but I’ve been doing little things because it helps make me hungry during the evening, and then I eat a bit more to compensate for what I burned.” He explained. “Like, I’ll go for a little swim out in the garden or I’ll do a ballet class or I’ll go and do a short little workout with one of the trainers at the Royal.”

“Which is why you went down for a little while.” He murmured.

“I wasn’t compensating. I’ve started compensating now by eating before I go to bed.” He yawned. “It’s easier to eat in the evening because the kids are around and I don’t want them to pick up any of my shitty habits.”

“I’m glad you’ve tried so hard around them. They obviously know you’re very poorly and Olly’s definitely aware that you’re very slim, but it’s good that they haven’t really seen the bad side of it.” Jim kissed the top of his head. “Do you want to lie down for a little while?”

“I’ve just been napping on the sofa.” Freddie said softly. “It’s a stupid guilt thing. I don’t like to nap in our bed because I don’t feel like I can use it if you’re not there. Besides-” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood a little. “I don’t think I could get up the stairs at this point.”

“Do you want me to lie with you for a little while?” He offered and rocked them a little, back and forth.

“You’ve got work.” Freddie protested weakly.

“Oh, fuck work.” Jim murmured. “You’re more important to me than a few rehearsals.”

Freddie stayed quiet for a few moments, letting himself feel small and protected in Jim’s arms. “I’d like that.” He said quietly. “I think today’s going to be a tough one.”

“I’d rather help you through it.” Jim said softly; he carefully picked him up and took them both up the stairs. “Remember when you broke your leg and I had to do this all the time?”

“I remember when Oliver fell asleep on me when I was sat in your lap and I was effectively stuck because I couldn’t get up.” He laughed a little. “I think the hospital would’ve liked me to break my leg so I don’t insist on trying to exercise all the time.”

Jim lay him down on the bed and lay beside him. He kissed his head and kept him close, trailing his fingers back and forth over his side. “You’re definitely getting better.”

“What makes you think that?” Freddie asked sleepily, but he was still smiling. 

“You’re warm.” Jim said softly. “When you first came home, you were really cold. Your skin was so cold all the time and you were wearing really heavy clothes to warm you up.” He rested his hand over Freddie’s stomach, and Freddie practically purred at the way the warmth relaxed his muscles, lessening the nausea. “You’re warm now.”

Freddie smiled shyly. “I hadn’t really thought about that.” He admitted. “I don’t shiver like I used to.”

“It’s because you’re doing so well.” Jim smiled. “I’m so proud of you, my love.”

* * *

Freddie hummed as he swept the floor of the lounge; the children had had friends over the day before, and so the floor was covered in broken crayons and bits of biscuit. He quickly cleaned up the papers that Jim had left all over the dining table, piles of scores and receipts, mindlessly collecting everything up to take downstairs into his office.

He paused when he picked up a leaflet left on the table and sat down in his big chair, sitting cross-legged as he opened it with trembling fingers. He couldn’t help his shy smile, though, and he wondered if Jim had left this out for him deliberately, promising him that he hadn’t forgotten Freddie’s ambitions all those months ago.

_ Adopting your first baby. _

He sat back and read it completely, from cover to cover. His face was flushed pink with delight at the idea, finally indulging in his dreams that he’d had for so long.

“I knew you’d find it.” Jim said with a smile, leaning against the doorway to the lounge. “I picked it up a few days ago when I went in to make a few changes at the adoption agency.”

“Do you still want to?” He asked shyly. “I know you’ve been feeling a little unsteady with Oliver and Talulah, I don’t want to put more pressure on you.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to do it until we get the all-clear from the hospital on your behalf.” He said quietly. “And everything’s all settled down, you know? But I do want to.” He smiled. “I love the idea of a little baby of our own.”

Freddie went running to him and wrapped his arms around him tightly. “You really do?”

“I really do.” Jim smiled. “I really do, darling. Little Teddy, remember?”

“Little Theodore.” Freddie echoed with a little smile.

* * *

Jim watched as Freddie wrapped those satin ribbons around his ankle, tying them in a double knot and tucking the loose ends back in on themselves. The process of putting on his shoes was always a meditative moment for him; he would always test the flexibility, pad his toes and then hide the padding with the ends of his tights, cover any blisters with a little second skin, and then the shoes themselves would go on.

Freddie had been dancing en pointe more often than not recently: he couldn’t do a lot of the more powerful, more masculine moves yet, and so he focused more on rebuilding his strength through light pointework. It helped him to build up the muscles in his legs and his ankles so that he could, one day, build up to his grand jetés once again. The pointework challenged his body and his mind, getting him used to moving again for hours at a time.

Jim sat beside him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. They had a weigh-in later, and it was the first that he hadn’t been sickly anxious for; Freddie had been making such steady progress, and Jim could see the power slowly rebuilding in his legs. “Freddie?” He asked softly, resting his head on his shoulder and pressing a soft kiss to the skin between the join of his shoulder and his jawline. 

“Hmm?” Freddie asked distractedly, bandaging two of his toes together quickly. 

“Will you move back home?” Jim asked quietly. “For good?”

“For good?” Freddie echoed, suddenly dumbfounded. “I thought it was only temporary, while I got better.” He whispered.

“I want you home.” Jim murmured and wrapped an arm around his waist. “We all want you home. You’re such an important member of our family.” He pulled him in closer and kissed his head. 

Freddie cuddled into his side and smiled sweetly. “I’d love that.” He said softly. “You’re so good to me.”

Jim felt as though a weight was being lifted from his shoulders; having Freddie to share his responsibilities and his work, having Freddie to help with childcare, having Freddie to help with the housework, and just having Freddie to love was making his life so much easier, so much better. People underestimated how much of an impact having someone next to him when he woke up really made on his life.

When he lived on his own with the children, he was trapped in the house for hours on end, completely alone; he hadn’t had the freedom that Freddie had to go out every night and meet new men. There was a feeling of loneliness that affected him every evening after the children went to bed, a time he was so used to spending with Freddie, drinking tea or cuddling or swimming or reading or picking fruit out in the garden. Evenings were the times that Jim missed him most, when the stress of the day died away and he was left empty and lonely and unable to fill the void that had been left behind.

Freddie had been a whirlwind presence since he’d come back into his life, filling in all the blanks that he’d been feeling. Freddie’s gorgeous laugh filled the silence of the evening, his quiet voice provided the company he had been so desperately craving, his soft fingers provided the touch that he’d been so lost without. 

“You’re like a part of me.” Jim kissed him softly. “I’ve lived with you for so long that you’ve become a part of me. I can’t imagine my life without you.” He said sweetly and smiled when he saw how pink Freddie’s cheeks had become; he couldn’t resist kissing those irresistibly soft lips again.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the break, lovebirds, but we’re all waiting on you.” Olga said fondly and they broke away quickly, blushing like teenagers that had just been caught. “Jim, darling, I’m screwed without a pianist.”

“Sorry, sorry-” He apologised quickly and stood up. “I got distracted.”

“A beautiful distraction, but a distraction all the same.” Olga chuckled. “Let’s get going!”

* * *

“Ninety-three.” Elouise smiled widely. “That’s brilliant, Freddie, well done!”

Freddie’s smile was bright enough to light the room; Jim could see the pride that he felt in himself. “I’ve really been trying.” He said shyly.

“I can see that.” She smiled. “It really is amazing, Freddie. You’ve been doing so well.”

Jim wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed the side of his head. “You’re a little superstar, aren’t you?” He said playfully, squeezing him lightly. “You’re looking so much better, Freddie.”

“He’s got the colour back in his face.” Elouise smiled and grabbed a needle from the drawers beside her. “I just want to take some blood and your blood pressure, darling. I want to check your electrolyte levels, your iron levels and your blood sugar to see how you’re doing.”

Freddie immediately tucked himself right up against Jim and hid his face in his neck; Jim kissed the top of his head and wrapped both arms around him soothingly. “Go ahead.” Freddie murmured. “I just don’t want to look.”

“That’s perfectly reasonable.” She agreed and let him stay where he was, quickly taking the blood she needed and splitting it into the different tests. “Okay, darling, so you’re still anaemic, but it’s a lot better than it was.” She smiled. She checked the results of the sugar test and frowned a little. “How are you feeling at the moment, Freddie?”

“I’m feeling alright.” Freddie frowned a little. “Is there something wrong?”

“Let me take your blood pressure.” She came closer and wrapped the monitor around his arm. “Then we’ll be able to be more informed about it.”

Freddie sat quietly, but Jim could see that he was immediately worried. “I guess I’m a bit cold.” He said, voice barely a whisper. “I’m a bit shaky, too, but that’s nothing new.”

“What were you doing before you came here today?” She asked. “You haven’t been exercising, have you?”

“I-” Freddie bit his lip. “I was doing a ballet class.”

“Okay, darling.” She said softly. “You’ve got quite low blood pressure, which I think is because you’ve been exercising while you’ve been badly anaemic. I think you’re so used to being tired and lightheaded that you maybe haven’t realised.” She said soothingly.

“What’s wrong with my blood, then?” He asked quietly. 

“Your blood sugar is really quite low, darling. Did you eat after your class?” She asked.

“No.” Freddie shook his head. “Because you all get funny if I eat or drink before my weigh-ins.”

“We were going to go and get some lunch afterwards.” Jim rubbed his side. “I believe I promised that we could go to the new Parsi restaurant that’s just opened in Whitechapel.”

“So when did you last eat?” She asked, taking the monitor off his arm. “Did you eat this morning?”

“We had breakfast together.” Freddie glanced over at Jim and smiled shyly. “At like- eight this morning? I’d usually eat after class, but I knew we were coming here and you’d be annoyed if I messed with the reading.”

“Okay.” She nodded and checked the electrolyte test. “They’re all balanced nicely. It seems to me like your body is getting into the swing of recovering now.”

Freddie nodded shyly. “So what do I need to do to help the pressure and the sugar?”

“Drink more water and go and eat some food.” She smiled. “Also, make sure you’re taking those iron tablets I gave you. They’ll help balance you out.” She paused for a second. "I'd say to stop the ballet, but I don't think that's realistic. So when you're dancing, try to drink some full sugar sports drinks, because that'll keep your blood sugar and your electrolytes nice and balanced. I'm not going to stop you from doing it if it makes you happy, because your happiness is more important than anything."

* * *

“Thank you for coming with me.” Freddie squeezed his hand tightly; his anxiety was through the roof at the idea of finally walking back into his old flat. He had no idea the state of the house that he was going to show Jim. “There’s too much stuff in here I don’t trust myself around.”

“That’s okay, darling.” Jim kissed the side of his head. “Whatever I can do, sweetheart, to help you, I will.”

“I just want to get my clothes and a few bits and pieces and then get the hell out of here. I’ll pay for them to get a cleaner in here just so I don’t have to come in again.” He unlocked the door and picked up his wallet from the counter straight away. “Bedroom’s through here.”

Jim frowned when he saw the state of the bed. “Shit, Freddie, why are the sheets covered in blood?”

Freddie looked over. “Christ.” He muttered and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll come clean about it. I had a boyfriend while I wasn’t with you.” He started grabbing clothes and shoving them blindly into his bag; he wanted out of there as soon as he could. “One of the guys that attacked me. He was into bloodplay.” He sighed. “Or he said he was. And I felt worthless, so I’d do anything he wanted to make him happy.”

Jim wrapped his arms around Freddie from behind him and kissed the top of his head. “Sometimes I still wonder what goes on in your head, darling.” He said quietly. 

“Remember how I used to be fixated on the idea that I was ruined?” He asked. “It was like that all over again. Except this time, I was so ruined that not even you could love me, and you’ve loved me through everything.” He bit his lip. “I knew it was illogical because I hadn’t told you the truth, but I couldn’t stop those feelings. I thought that maybe I could stop myself being attacked again if I was good to them.”

“I love you.” Jim said softly, holding him safe and tight. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

“I think that’s why I got so thin.” It was hard to admit to Jim, but he wanted to come clean about it. “Because I was hurting and I wanted to be numb and then I could almost convince myself that I could be happy. And also-” He shook his head. “It’s gross. But he’d cut me deep, and then I’d be able to see all my fat and it was so disgusting even though there wasn’t even that much.”

“I’m so glad that you’re safe now.” Jim kissed his head again. “I’m so, so glad that you came back to me.”

  
  
“I think the most ridiculous part of it is the fact that I didn’t have to go through that. I put myself through it as punishment.” Freddie leaned back against him. “I had a couple of really nice guys that offered to take me on dates but they reminded me too much of you, and so I put myself through all that shit unnecessarily.” He shook his head. “My head is fucked. I’ve only been better since I came home to you.”

“I love you.” He repeated again. “I’m so glad you recognised that you had the control to leave that behind.”

“I felt like I was being young and stupid again. It’s like when I went back to Paul and I had that realisation that I was being ridiculous and self-punishing and that I could leave him behind and go back to you.” He closed his eyes. “I hated it here.”

* * *

Jim sat down in Freddie’s snuggle chair and beckoned Freddie. “It’s cold.” He pouted and patted his lap. “Come cuddle.”

Freddie, who had been bundled up in a blanket on the sofa, immediately complied. “I thought you’d never ask.” He took his blanket and immediately curled up in Jim’s lap. “Why do you always want me to sit in your lap? I mean, I love it, but other couples lay on each other or sit beside one another and no one else ever seems to sit in anyone else’s lap.”

“I like having you close.” Jim kissed his neck. “You don’t have to sit here if you don’t want to.”

“I never said I didn’t want to.” Freddie lounged closer and kissed his cheek. “It makes me feel safe. It’s like when Bear lays on my chest when he’s sleepy or upset, just because he likes my body heat and the sound of my heart.”

“He really is a cuddle bug. I think he models his behaviour off of yours, and he sees how much you like to snuggle when you’re sleepy or upset. I don’t think he got a lot of that kind of closeness when he was really little and so he didn’t know that that was a good way to calm himself. So when he saw you upset, and he saw the way that you like to lay with me, he thought he’d try it himself.” Jim kissed his cheek; he could never resist his warm, tanned skin. “And so our little cuddle bug was born.”

“You know what I love?” Freddie was smiling now, warm and sleepy and loved. “I love being called Daddy. I love it so much. I wish I could use it instead of my real name.” He grinned lopsidedly. “When Bear sees me in the school playground and he calls me it just makes my heart feel warm. I like it when you call me it, too.” Freddie started to laugh. “It just makes me so happy.”

“The most wonderful Daddy.” Jim kissed his cheek again and smiled. “I bought you a present.”

“You did?” Freddie asked sweetly. “I don’t deserve anything like that.”

“Oh but you do, Daddy.” Jim smiled. “It’s a promise for the future.” He brought out a little ring and smiled. “It’s a Cartier. I bought it for you because it can be resized when you get back up to a healthy weight. I know you haven’t really been able to wear your wedding ring because it’s too big for you, so I thought this could be a nice stand-in.”

“A Cartier?” Freddie asked softly, smiling when Jim slipped it over his finger. “Aren’t they really expensive?” He lifted his hand and watched as the diamonds sparkled in the low light. “It’s beautiful. It’s so tiny.”

“It’s a woman's ring. I thought you would like it.” He smiled at how good it looked on him. “It’s called the Ballerine Solitaire in rose gold. It cost about four grand.” He kissed Freddie gently. “It was a silly little impulse purchase, really, but I just thought it was gorgeous and I couldn’t resist getting it for you.”

“I remember when you couldn’t afford the taxi home.” Freddie smiled. “And now a four grand ring is an impulse purchase.” He leaned up and kissed him again. “It’s beautiful, darling, thank you.”

“When you get healthy we can resize it and you can wear it with your wedding bands.” Jim smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Can I see?” Talulah asked softly. “Is it pretty?”

“It’s gorgeous.” Freddie showed off the ring the way he had all those years ago when he’d first gotten engaged. “Your Pop bought it for me.”

“It’s beautiful!” She smiled. “Pop, can I have one?”

“When you’re a little bigger, angel.” Freddie picked her up and cuddled her close, creating a cuddle pile in the big armchair. “Pop and I will pick you a special one for a special birthday.” He promised.

Oliver stood in the doorway, a little shy. He wanted to join in with the cuddles, but he was nervous that there would be no room for him; he didn’t want to be rejected. Even the idea of rejection brought a lump into his little throat and butterflies to his tummy, and he went to turn away again when Jim caught his eye from across the room. “Will you come and cuddle?” Jim asked softly and reached out for him. “There’s room for a little one like you.”

Oliver’s little face lit up and he ran across the lounge. He ended up curled up to Freddie’s right side, Talulah to his left, and Freddie was pressed against Jim’s chest; he squeezed both children tightly and smiled. “I still can’t believe I have such amazing children.” He said with a smile. “I love you so much, Bear. And you too, Lulah.”

“I love my Daddy.” Oliver murmured and kissed Freddie’s jawline. “I love my Daddy lots and lots.”

“I love my Daddy the most!” Talulah said with a giggle.

“You can’t!” Oliver shook his head. “I love my Daddy the most in the whole wide world!”

“It’s not a competition, kids.” Jim chuckled. “We all love Daddy.”

Freddie smiled and lay back against Jim. “And Daddy loves you too.”


	8. Moet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last important milestones.

_Be still, my indelible friend,_

_You are unbreaking,_

_Though quaking,_

_Though crazy,_

_That's wasteland, baby._

“Freddie?” Olga burst into the rehearsal room that Freddie was cooling down in. “How warmed up are you at the moment?”

The clock was ticking just past four o’clock that Thursday afternoon; Freddie had managed to do a morning class and a technical class, and was just stretching out before heading home to Kash and the children. Jim was performing in the matinee that afternoon, and so Freddie would be getting the tube home: he couldn’t help it if he was procrastinating just a little.

“Pretty warm.” Freddie stood up quickly. “I’ve danced for about two hours today.”

“How would you feel about going out on stage?” She asked, and only then did Freddie realise how breathless she was. 

“When?” He questioned.

“Fifteen minutes?” She gave him a little smile. “It’s not a principal role, so it shouldn’t be too bad for you, it’s just a soloist role. Eric broke his ankle in the first act.”

“It’s my job to injure myself in the first act.” Freddie laughed. “What role is it? I mean, I’m not the understudy, so I might not know it.”

“They’re doing Alice. It’s the caterpillar and his big scene is coming up, and I’ll have to get Jim to cut the music and skip it if I can’t find someone to do it. You’re my last hope.” She said softly. “You don’t have to do it if you’re not up to it.”

“I originated that role!” Freddie said with delight. “Oh, I know that one. Hopefully, I’ll remember the steps when the music starts.” He grabbed his shoes and then faltered. “I haven’t got any tan split-soles with me, they won’t go with the outfit. Will the trousers fit me?”

“Have you got your red split-soles?” She asked him and smiled when he nodded. “Wear those. You’re the assoluta, you’re allowed to stand out for the sake of your status. We can always pin the trousers quickly.”

Freddie went with her quickly, his heart pounding at the fear of forgetting the steps and the exhilaration of being back on stage once again. He changed into the outfit and tied his own turban quickly - it was the perk of choosing him as the caterpillar, no one else had to mess around pretending they could tie the turban - before slipping on his red shoes. 

“Are we doing it or not?” Jim asked Olga. “Do I need to cut caterpillar?”

“I’ve got a caterpillar, we’ll do it.” Olga nodded and held back the curtain so that he can slip through to go back to the orchestra.

Freddie came out to Olga, holding the trousers up at the side. “Can you pin the waist?” He asked quickly. He was aware that his torso was too skinny for the aesthetics of the role, but he tried to put that out of his mind; he could dance it as well as anyone else. 

She grabbed a safety pin from the counter and pinned the waist at the back for him. “Sure you’re okay to do this?” She checked with him. “Last chance to say no.”

“I’ll do it, darling.” Freddie grabbed one of the sports drinks from his bag and drank down as much as he could to get his sugar levels up. “Just say when.”

Jim watched the stage nervously, checking periodically that everything was happening as it should; he’d had to do an impromptu repetition of one of the earlier songs when Eric had gotten injured. He took his eyes off the stage quickly to start the music for the caterpillar scene, immediately feeling a tug in his heart for Freddie: it had been a fun role for him to develop, he loved the music, and he’d sometimes play it on an off-day for the Mad Hatter.

When Freddie burst out onto the stage, soft and sultry and seductive under the blue lights, turning as though he’d been practising this role for weeks, his heart rose to his mouth. His baton faltered mid-air for a moment before muscle memory took over, automatically quieting the music as he watched the most beautiful pas de deux that he’d seen in a long while. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get the clearance to go on stage, and how he wasn’t already exhausted from his unusually long day, but he didn’t show anything except joy channelled into the fluidity of his movements.

Freddie, ultimately, was a gorgeous dancer to watch, the man who could do anything with seeming ease; even now, even recovering. He was the man that could dance en pointe in tap shoes, the man who could dance any role, no matter how technical, the man who could make even the craziest of characters loveable. Jim smiled as he watched him, relaxing at how at ease he looked again on the big stage of the opera house that afternoon.

His smile only grew wider when he peeked at the bright red split-soles that most definitely did not go with the rest of his outfit.

* * *

“I am literally going to fall asleep right the fuck here.” Freddie murmured, tucking himself into Jim’s neck. They were on the tube back to Kensington after the performance, and Jim was holding a very tired Freddie as close as he could. “I don’t think I’m even going to make it home.”

“I would’ve brought the car if I’d known you were dancing, darling.” Jim said apologetically and kissed the top of his head. “You were wonderful. How the hell did you get clearance to do that?”

“Olga’s desperation.” Freddie chuckled tiredly. “She was going to cut the caterpillar scene otherwise, and that would’ve messed with the timings and everything. I couldn’t let her do that. It’s a beautiful scene.”

“Do you feel okay now?” Jim asked softly. “You’re not in pain, or cold, or shaky, or anything?”

“I need something to eat. I’m crashing hard.” He turned into Jim’s side and cuddled close. “I think my blood sugar is low. I did drink like she told me to, but it’s more intense than most of what I’ve been doing before.”

Jim smiled. “I’ve got some sweets in my bag if you want them.”

“What kind?” Freddie asked hopefully. 

“Fruit pastilles.” Jim rummaged around and handed them over. “I thought they’d be good if you got low, like now.”

  
  
“I knew there was a reason I married you.” Freddie kissed his cheek and took the sweets from him, picking out all the green ones to eat first. “Thank you, darling.”

Jim tugged him off the tube at Earl’s Court and wrapped an arm around his waist as they walked home. “You really need a shower.”

“Don’t you even dare.” He said playfully. “I just danced for four hours. I might drop dead at any minute.”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Jim kissed his cheek. They wandered slowly home, going at Freddie’s pace, laughing and joking the whole way; Jim felt an intense sense of peace fall across the both of them. He’d longed for someone to fill the hole left by Freddie, and there was no better person to fill it than Freddie himself.

* * *

Going out together was an indulgence since the children had come; Freddie would go out after a good concert, or Jim would go out with his university friends, but one or the other of them usually had to be home with the children. One of the manifestations of Jim’s trauma was an intense distrust of childminders and babysitters: it had taken the longest time for Freddie to soothe his anxieties over sending them to nursery and day-school. The best thing the children had ever done was befriend a pair of twins whose father Jim already knew from his hairdressing days, giving Freddie and he the opportunity to go out when the children went over for innumerable sleepovers.

Somehow, they’d ended up back in Heaven, as they did on most evenings they spent trawling the gay scenes. They didn’t always feel the need to be glued to one another: Freddie preferred to dance, teasing Jim across the room with lewd little gestures, while Jim was happier conversing at the bar, shielding both his and Freddie’s drinks from any wandering hands. They were both social, but in different ways, the chalk and cheese of the club, ink and paper, light and dark, incomplete without their differences. If Jim was starlight, then Freddie was moonlight, constantly illuminated by him; if Freddie was the sun, then Jim was the rain, rational and sensible and oh-so-necessary; if Jim was tea, warm and homely and comforting, Freddie was milk and sugar, sweetening the palette and bringing a smile to the face.

“Can I buy you a drink, darling?” An unfamiliar face walked over to Jim, smiling; older than him, perhaps, looking for a new baby. Jim hadn’t been approached by a man like that in a long time.

He picked up his drink with his left hand, pointedly showing off his wedding and eternity rings. “It depends what you want out of it.” He replied with a smile. “If you’re looking for sex, I’m afraid I’m not here to pick anyone up. If you’re looking for a friend then go ahead, darling.”

“What can I get you?” He offered. “No expenses spared, I promise.”

“How no expenses?” Jim chuckled. “You can buy me a bottle of Moet if you’re that keen.”

He intended it as a joke, but the stranger leaned over the bar and ordered a fifty-pound bottle of Moet. “Don’t worry.” He said with an amused smile when he saw Jim’s nervous face. “I know you’ve got a husband. I’m not trying to convince you into having sex with me. You’re Jim Hutton, right? You’re married to Freddie.”

“Yeah.” Jim replied suspiciously. He caught Freddie’s eye from across the club, and Freddie must’ve been able to read the worried expression on his face; he started to make his way through the crowd. “What’s this about?”

“I promise I’m not a horrendous stalker.” He chuckled. “I’m Robert. I know you because I actually propositioned your husband a few months back, when he told me he was single. Understandably, he declined.” He got himself a vodka and tonic and then turned back to Jim. “I’m actually interested in your music.”

Freddie tucked himself neatly against Jim’s side. “Is this for us?” He glanced at the bottle and then at Jim, before he recognised the face in front of him. “Robert!”

“Freddie, darling.” He chuckled and leaned forward to hug him quickly. “Now I understand why you weren’t interested in the date. No hard feelings, I wouldn’t want a man if I had one like yours.” 

Freddie smiled and leaned up to kiss Jim’s cheek. “What are the big boys discussing?” He asked playfully.

“I’m working at the moment as a music director.” Robert explained. “Universal studios in London. I was wondering if you, perhaps, would be interested in writing a film score any time soon for us?” He offered. “I completely understand if you’re too busy, but the film is only in its early stages and we could work around your schedule.”

“A film score?” Jim echoed. “How big is the film?”

“The public opinion suggests it might be the biggest film to come out in 1980. It might go down as a classic, darling.” Robert smiled. “It’s based on The Shining, by Stephen King. I don’t know if you’ve read it, but it was quite the craze last year.”

“I’ve read that one!” Freddie beamed. “That’s fucking freaky. That would be so amazing, darling.” He said excitedly.

“That gave you nightmares for at least two weeks.” Jim said fondly. “You want me to write the score for the whole film?”

“It’s only the same length as a ballet, really, and you don’t have to worry about performance dynamics. It’s a very dark film, so it’s the same kind of thing you’d be looking at for a performance of Mayerling, but a little less lyrical.” He shrugged. “Would you be interested?”

“Definitely.” Jim said immediately; it wasn’t something he’d expected in a thousand years. Freddie had always been the musical one, the one with fame attributed to his music; this would allow Jim to be big in the right circles and then quieter in others.

“That’s incredible!” Freddie threw his arms around Jim’s neck and kissed him. “Now, darling, open the champagne!”

* * *

The morning air was cold, and Freddie was most definitely completely naked, sex-mused and sated and just a little sleepy as he lay beside his husband. “You made a mess of me.” He smiled into Jim’s neck, glancing at the messy bedsheets and the even bigger mess on his stomach.

“Celebratory.” Jim leaned down and kissed him lightly. “You want me to run a bath?”

“In a minute.” Freddie snuggled in happily. “I don’t think my legs are going to want to work for a little while yet.”

“Are you my baby Bambi?” Jim teased and kissed his forehead. “I love how your legs go shaky.”

“It’s all part of taking care of me, darling, isn’t it?” He teased in return.

“Oh, you know it.” Jim pulled him closer. “How else do I satiate you?”

“The eternal question.” Freddie smiled and closed his eyes. They lay together for a little while, occasionally kissing, occasionally laughing, occasionally speaking softly to one another; Freddie dozed against his shoulder.

His eyes flew open when the phone rang and he yawned. “I’ll get it.” He murmured, standing up and grabbing his dressing-gown before heading down the stairs.

“Your legs regret that decision!” Jim called after him, grinning to himself; in a second, he’d get up and run a bath for them, but he could afford a few minutes more to rest his eyes while Freddie got rid of whoever was on the phone, most likely the hospital or the Opera House.

He was dozing himself when Freddie came running up the stairs, breathless and flushed. “Jim!” He jumped onto the bed and shook his shoulder quickly. “Jim, it’s the fucking call, it’s the call, it’s-”

“What?” He asked sleepily and yawned. “What, Freddie, what call?”

Freddie grabbed his wrist and dragged him downstairs as though he’d be able to see the call somehow. He picked up the receiver and cleared his throat. “It’s Jim. Can you repeat whatever you’ve just told Freddie? He’s gone completely nonsensical and I can’t get a proper word out of him.”

“It’s Charlotte from the adoption agency. I imagine he’s a little excited, is all.” She chuckled delightedly. “I’ve been contacted today by an expectant mother who’s looking for adoption for her newborn baby in a few months.”

“Oh my God.” Jim broke into the biggest smile and looked over at where Freddie was; he was bright and alive with happiness, eyes sparkling, any sleepiness forgotten. “Really? What're the circumstances?”

“It’s a little sad, really. The girl is fifteen, and she was sadly assaulted, and so she feels that she won’t be able to bond with her child. She’s chosen not to terminate on personal ethical grounds.” Charlotte explained. “She’s very keen the baby gets a good set of parents. You’re top of my waiting list right now, so you get the first choice of whether you’d like to say yes or no.”

Freddie was stood close enough to hear and nodded frantically; the dream was within touching distance. “Yes.” Jim replied immediately. “Yes, yes, oh my God, yes!”

He laughed when Freddie hugged him tightly and kissed his head quickly. “How far through is she?” Freddie asked, half-sharing the receiver with Jim.

“Only ten weeks at the moment. She’s trying to organise it with plenty of time to go.” Charlotte smiled. “Shall I put you down as expectant parents?”

“Yes!” Both men called at the same time; Freddie was almost jittering with excitement, while Jim was squeezing Freddie so tightly that he feared he’d burst. 

When Jim hung up, all he could do was stare at Freddie. “We’re having a baby.” He said quietly, but his smile was electrifying.

“We’re having a baby!” Freddie threw his arms around Jim’s neck and squealed when Jim picked him up and spun him around excitedly. “We’re having a baby!”

* * *

Freddie stood in the kids’ bedroom, meticulously folding and arranging laundry in neat piles in their drawers. His eyes wandered over the little socks, the little vests, the little pairs of pajamas in his hands, some decorated with little ballet shoes, some with little teddy bears, some with simple polka dots. He held one of Talulah’s vests close to his chest for a moment, feeling the soft cotton with his fingertips; the domestic had become so comforting.

Once upon a time, his world had come crumbling down at the hands of bad men with bad intentions. He had been little red riding hood, but there had been more than one big bad wolf, and many had been hidden, disguised as sheep. The domestic had become stifling, stopping him from doing whatever he wanted; in hindsight, it stopped him from destroying himself. Without the domestic, he was empty.

Once upon a time, he had thought that he would be better without it. He thought morning kisses could be replaced by codeine; he thought that bathtime could be replaced with a bottle of vodka. He had fallen so easily into self-destruction, and he’d struggled so hard to tug himself out of the pit, clutching at the stems of dandelions that grew between the gaps of the stones.

Once upon a time, he had summoned up the courage in every aching fibre of his body to stand up for himself and the life that he needed. He had confronted a lifelong pattern of behaviour, self-punishment and self-denial, and had taken control of himself and his own life. 

Once upon a time, he’d been strong enough to do it.

Once upon a time, he was a very sick man, a man caught up in self-denial and determination of all the wrong persuasions; now, he could run, he could jump, he could laugh, he could dance, he could sing, he could anything he wanted to.

Once upon a time, there was a man. He was a principal dancer for the Royal Ballet, a man of infinite talent, but so humble; he could dance any role at a second’s notice, could fly through the air on a good day, could deliver the hardest of movements with the easiest of grace. He was a singer for a very popular band, a man with an unbeatable, four-octave vocal range and a magical touch on piano keys. He had a husband, an ever-patient husband who was never afraid to knock the sense back into him, a husband that was more effective with his words than he was with his fists. He was a father to two, soon to be three, taking children who were cold, hungry, unloved and neglected and painting them gold with the beautiful innocence of childhood.

Freddie placed the last ball of socks in the drawer, listening to the silence of the house before he was treated to the sound of a key in the lock. He heard bags clattering down in the hall, swiftly followed by shoes, coats, Talulah’s hair clips and Oliver’s socks; he heard his husband cooing with pride over an award both won and deserved.

Freddie closed the drawer, and he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's finished! I hope you've enjoyed this little recovery fic - it's certainly been a very cathartic write, and we can now get back to the rest of the fluorescent!verse. If you've gotten this far, firstly, thank you! and secondly, why not drop me a comment below of your favourite part of this fic (feel free to give it a review if you want to!)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this isn't crushing your soul - the next chapter will be better, promise. Comments/kudos/general interaction always loved and appreciated!


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